


30 Days of the Hansen Clan

by Sonora



Series: Love Bites 'verse [12]
Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Succubi & Incubi, First Time, I'm not sure how to tag, Incest, M/M, Multi, Shapeshifting, Sleepy Cuddles, so just go with the first tag and extrapolate how dirty and trashy this can be
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-08
Updated: 2016-02-05
Packaged: 2018-04-25 09:56:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 30
Words: 20,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4955881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sonora/pseuds/Sonora
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>30 NSFW OTP challenge for the incubus boys</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Cuddling (nekkid)

Herc is warm in the mornings. Scott remembers that well. Warm and sweet, movements always a little more gentle, need always a little less sharp and a lot more generous. Scott remembers the way his brother smells too; strength itself, enveloping him in comfort. Everything was always better, the mornings he used to wake up in Herc’s arms.

Today though. Today it’s different. 

Scott doesn’t feel as small as he usually does, wrapped in Herc’s embrace. Not as small, and not as soft, breasts not tickling against Herc’s scattering of chest hair, and...

Shit, he’s wearing his dick.

Pure terror shoots through him, the remnants of over a decade of _hiding_ coursing through his not-quite-blood, _shift shift shiftshiftSHIFT_ hammering in his mind. It’s bullshit, and the mingled scents in the quiet hotel room - from his bed and the bed adjacent, where the boys must be - are undeniable proof that things have changed. 

Scott closes his eyes and turns into Herc’s side, ear pressed to that heartbeat, trying to breath his way through it, facts filtering back up through sleep-logged thoughts. He doesn’t have to be Angela anymore to be with the man he loves; he doesn’t have to pretend; he’s not in jail anymore, or hospital, or the hell of the conn-pod. He’s in a very nice hotel on Waikiki, done with everything the humans have tried to do to him. A few hours, and he’ll be going home, flying back to Sydney with the rest of his family. 

Hell, he has his family again. Chuck’s calling him Mum. And he’s right back where he belongs, Herc’s brother and drift partner and mate and wife, welcomed into his bed, naked against him now, life-sustaining sex there for the taking. Like now, how if he just reaches down, Scott can feel Herc’s cock, huge and wonderful in his hand.

Nothing’s wrong at all. 

It’s okay. He’s okay.

Relaxing by degrees, Scott feels himself slipping off, lulled by his brother’s heart. But before he can slip all the way down, he feels a kiss on his forehead, Herc’s arms tightening around him deliciously. 

“Gonna let go of my cock before you fall asleep again, angel?”

Angela would giggle. Scott’s not sure what _Scott_ would do, so he squeezes his hand a little, pushes a leg through Herc’s and scoots so close he’s literally laying on him. 

“Fuck no,” Scott grunt. He’s never going to let go again. 

His big brother’s patient chuckles follow him into sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’d like to go to sleep and wake up at the part of my life when it actually resembles the very short list of reasons for which I got out of the military... but who am I kidding? It’s almost midnight, I’m almost thirty, and I’m posting this while my cat sleeps on my back. It’ll be a fucking miracle if anything works out the way I wish it would. ANYWAY. Have some fluff, because that’s all I’m capable of writing right now. Plus, trying to keep myself writing. Time was ripe for a 30 day challenge!


	2. Kisses

Yancy doesn’t need the ghost drift, or the past thirty minutes of ops testing, to know it’s coming.

The second they’re out of the harnesses, he’s got an armful of horny younger brother.

Well, to be fair, Chuck’s always horny. _Always_. Which is not a problem. But they are still in their drivesuits, so...

“That was ace!” Chuck crows, and rubs his cheek against Yancy’s, hands gripping tight on Yancy’s biceps. “Fuck me?”

Yancy laughs - nothing else to do really, a ninety-four percentage compatibility rating on the first drift is damn good - and gives the kid a quick peck on the lips. “Striker’s an amazing machine,” he says, like he’s agreeing. “I see why Daddy loved her so much.”

Chuck’s eyes go flinty. “Daddy would fuck me.”

“No, Daddy wouldn’t,” Yancy tells him, gloved fingers fanning out against those adorably freckled cheeks. Chuck does smell like excitement and arousal, which is both delicious and dangerous. Makes him want to strip the kid’s lower suit off, shove him back in the harness, fuck him until he can’t sass back anymore. “Because Daddy wouldn’t want to have the entirety of...”

 _”You two okay in there?”_ the LOCCENT commander’s voice booms into the conn-pod.

“See?” Yancy says to him, and hits the intercom. “We’re fine, LOCCENT. Just taking a moment to confer with my new co-pilot. Be out in five.” 

“Fine,” Chuck grumbles, but doesn’t move away. Instead, he throws his arms around Yancy’s neck, biting at his ear. “You owe me a good fucking, though.”

The intercom’s still on.

With a groan, Yancy reaches back, turns it off, and kisses Chuck, just to shut him up.

Everyone in the family kisses slightly different. Raleigh is sweet and slow, savoring each little movement, every discreet flick of the tongue or slide of the lips, eager to be taken care of, soak up every ounce of his big brother’s love. Daddy is all power and heat, sweeping Yancy up and taking him away, hands firm against his body, tongue plundering Yancy’s mouth. Scott... Scott’s still a little unsure of himself when it comes to lovemaking with the rest of the family, but he’s quite a bit like Raleigh.

Chuck... Chuck is motion, pushing and pulling, always teetering on the edge of surrender but giving nothing that’s not taken by force.

And Yancy - having just earned his position as the right-hand pilot of Striker Eureka, now that Daddy can’t hold a drift with any of them- is in a mood to take.

Chuck tries to nip him, tries to pull away, and Yancy just growls.

Throws his little brother back against the visor, and goes for it.

Grinning, Chuck throws a suited leg around Yancy’s hip, but gasps the second their lips clash again.

Which is exactly where the crew chief finds them, ten minutes later. Yancy, trying to suck the breath out of Chuck’s body, Chuck wriggling eagerly against him, lips locked, suits grinding, cocks throbbing hard against that metal casing.

“Good drift?” he asks dryly.


	3. First Times

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear lord was this hard... I mean, what first time HAVEN'T they had by now?

Back arching off the blankets of its own volition, Chuck can’t hardly breath from the force of it. This, this is unlike anything he’s ever had before, like it’s all been turned upside down, the white-hot joy exploding up inside of him rather than out. Slickness is dribbling down his thighs, warm against that still-throbbing nub, and his eyes won’t focus and his skin feels like it’s on fire.

First orgasm as a girl. 

It’s brilliant. 

And confusing as hell.

One last kiss is pressed to the inside of his thigh, one last swipe of fingers against his new clit, and then Mum’s soft sweetness curls up around him. “Doing okay, baby?”

Chuck has to really think about it, pulling his scattered thoughts back together. He turns over on his side, ample breasts brushing across Mum’s light, pert ones. His female form is evidently all curves and rounds, like how his male body’s stockier and heavier than either Daddy’s or Mum’s. It’s a bit of a strange sensation, having something so large squishing on his chest, but his nipples are much more sensitive like this, so maybe that’s a fair trade.

He has no idea what he’s feeling. 

“How do girls live like this?” he finally asks, panting. 

Mum smiles at him, hand rubbing small circles on his shoulder. “I can smell how much you enjoyed that.”

“No, no, it was... you were...” Chuck flounders, and settles for a sex-dopey smile instead. “I love you, Mummy.”

“Mm,” Mum replies, and bumps their foreheads together, mouths so close, Chuck can practically taste himself on her lips. “I was beginning to think I’d lost the touch.”

“Been eating out loads of other girls, have we, angel?” Daddy asks, settling down on the edge of the nest. Chuck yearns up into the hand that’s offered him, scooting over to curl around his father’s thigh. While they’re still mated, of course, the bond is less urgent, more flexible, with his brothers and Mum sharing it with him. Flexible enough for them to have a private moment, every once in a while. 

Special Mummy-son time.

Or Mummy-daughter time. Because Chuck had shifted for the first time today, and Mummy said she wanted his first time as a girl to be special. To be something that was just theirs. 

It really, really was.

And Daddy’s here now. Private moment over, but family time just beginning. 

“Girl has to eat,” Mum says primly, and sits up on the other side of Daddy, hugging him low around the waist, one hand carding Chuck’s long auburn locks, almost the same color as her own. She lays her head on Daddy’s shoulder. “Somebody wasn’t feeding me.”

“Somebody was putting the mind-whammy on me, instead of confessing his true feelings,” Daddy replies blandly.

“Well, somebody should have realized that his little brother...”

“... was a horny little bastard who likes to munch the carpet from time to time?” 

Mummy smacks him. 

Chuck just hums, and snuggles in closer.

His thighs glide against each other, ample girl-hips bulkier than he’s used to, soft ginger pubes tickling against his still-throbbing clit. A fresh wave of _fuck yeah_ zings through him.

Oh yeah.

As long as Mum doesn’t want Chuck to join in all those girl games she and Raleigh are planning on playing, when Max is weaned and Raleigh can shift again - getting all dressed up for high tea at the Omni, or lingerie shopping, or whatever the fuck - Chuck’s down with this girl-form thing.


	4. Masturbation

Alone for the moment, Herc tips his head forward into the hot water, shivering a little as it sluices down his body. Feels good though; between Max and his still-new duties as 'Dome Marshall, he's been horrendously busy. No time to take time for himself. 

He’s also _alone_ right now, which is a terribly uncommon occurrence these days and, chuckling, Herc knows exactly how to celebrate.

Leaning back against the tiles of their taxpayer-expanded shower, Herc strokes a hand down his chest, letting his eyes slide shut while his fingers start drawing small circles around the base of his cock. His boys don’t have much body hair, preferring to go without it and while he does love it, it’s quite nice to have some texture under the pads of his fingers. The contrast between the coarseness of his wiry pubes and the slickness of the water is delicious. He just plays there for a few moments, enjoying the sensations as his cock fills out, just barely starting to stroke himself. Firm, slow strokes, down to the head, twisting back up to the base. Slower, then faster, then slow again, taking his time. It’s not often he thinks about how much bigger he is than he used to be, but his cock is far fatter in his hand than it was a couple of years ago.

Perks of being the head of a clan of incubi, he supposes.

Herc doesn’t necessarily think about anything, wanting to stay focused the pleasure of what he’s physically doing. Using all the discipline he honed in the conn-pod, he keeps his thoughts firmly away from his sexy, beautiful, darling boys, the way Raleigh kisses like the world’s ending, or the little breathless laugh he can fuck out of Scott. How Chuck presents himself so eagerly, whenever he’s been a bad little boy and needs some fatherly guidance. How gorgeous Yancy is when he lets himself go, when he’s so drunk on cock he cri-

“You called?”

Not even bothering not to groan, Herc cracks an eye. Yancy’s naked already, both clothing and human form stripped off. How did he manage that, so quickly? “Didn’t you have Kwoon training this afternoon?”

“Kwoon’s only one floor down,” Yancy says demurely, and steps into the bathroom, tail flicking out to lock the door behind him. “Your thoughts are very loud, Daddy.”

Part of Herc wants to tell the boy to fuck off and let him get back to it. 

On the other hand.

“Get in here,” Herc grumbles without any real anger, waving his boy closer. 

Yancy’s wingtips flutter a little, and Herc can feel his hunger, his eagerness. “You sure, Daddy? Sure you don’t want your hand?”

“You’re not very good at pretending to be disinterested,” Herc tells him dryly, and waggles his cock, hand still wrapped around the base. 

“No Daddy,” Yancy agrees, sinking to his knees with no shame at all. He kisses the inside of Herc’s thigh and smiles up at him, little fangs out. “I’m really not.”


	5. Blow Jobs

It kind of feels like victory, when Yancy finally gets Daddy’s cock down his throat. Sure, it’s been there before - there’s something satisfying, a holdover from a childhood spent as a human with human food, perhaps, about having a human’s dick in one’s mouth. But to have Daddy alone, all to himself, at _his_ mercy, _his alone_ to feed off of?

It doesn’t happen very often.

Especially not with baby Max around.

And as much as Yancy adores his nephew, he almost loves his adopted father’s attention more.

Catching him jerking off in the shower in the middle of the duty day is just too perfect.

So Yancy takes his time. Just like Daddy was doing; nice and slow, tongue and lips exploring that wonderful throbbing length with the greatest of care, feeling the feedback of Daddy’s pleasure, his needs, and giving him exactly what he wants. Touching him where he wants, how he wants. A hint of teeth, right at the base, fangs lightly scraping the blood-sensitive skin. The flat of his tongue on the way down, the slide of the underside across Daddy’s slit. A faint dig of his blunt nails, as he takes a firmer grip on Daddy’s strong thighs, slotting himself closer, pressing his body to every inch of skin he can reach.

“Needy boy today, aren’t we?” Daddy rumbles, not even touching him, just smiling down at him with bemused benefaction. Happiness is curling out of him like new clouds off water. “My pretty baby.”

Yancy’s tail curls around Daddy’s calf, mind whispering back an affirmative as he swallows him down further, whispering out along their bond his...

“If you want to ask for something, use your words,” Daddy says, a bit sterner this time, and Yancy reluctantly pulls off.

“Fuck my mouth, Daddy?”

Who needs oxygen anyway?

There's cum to be had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...short? [These](http://curryuku.tumblr.com/post/31830620843/30-days-otp-challenge-nsfwversion) are all pretty vanilla; I may have to substitute some a little more appropriate for our sex-starved boys.


	6. Clothed Sex

Raleigh’s not entirely sure why he’s in Daddy’s office. Something about some report he was supposed to file for Scott, who’s working LOCCENT now, or something like that, but who cares? 

Paperwork can wait. 

Right where it is. 

On the edge of that great big Marshall’s desk. 

_He’s_ got Daddy’s full attention at the moment.

Daddy’s hands squeeze down on his hips. “Feeling a bit spunky today, are we, sweetheart?”

“Mmm,” Raleigh purrs back and grinds himself further down on Daddy’s cock, sadly hidden from him by those annoying uniform pants. He can feel it though, big and hard, fighting against its confining layers. “Spunky, hungry, horny, whatever.”

“When aren’t you hungry?” Daddy grumbles, but there’s nothing but love in the words.

“Always.” Raleigh rubs a socked heel down Daddy’s leg - all he had the patience to take off were his shoes - and kisses Daddy’s neck. His body’s already started a slow, easy roll, the motion sending pleasant little tremors through his clit, made even more delicious by the silk panties he’s got on underneath. He’s going to leave a massive wet spot on Daddy’s pants, but who cares about that either? Daddy doesn’t have any more briefings today, does he? “Wait, never. Never. Never not hungry for you.”

The pleased little hum from Daddy vibrates right through him, and those hands start rubbing up and down his sides, rough and firm, just perfect. “You wanna come for me, baby boy? Wanna come, just like this? Rubbing your cute little cunt, the one that gave Daddy such a perfect little son, on Daddy’s leg?”

“Oh Daddy..."

“That a yes or no?"

"Yes, yeah, that's a yes, Daddy."

"Good boy. Now hold on."

It sounds like a threat.

Beautiful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have so many things I want to write, but no time right now. Argh. I will absolutely get back on the other story, as soon as my life calms down (read: when I finally get my own apartment next weekend. EXPECT CELEBRATORY PORN). Also, I'm making an 1860s dress for Dickens on the Strand this year, and getting all the undergarments done has been a bitch and a half. (photos will be provided upon move-in, promise!)
> 
> Also, these are all super vanilla (comparatively). Raleigh's mating is absolutely on the list to do, but does anybody have any specific kinks they'd like to see? I think I'm gonna have to kick this up a notch.


	7. Clothed/Naked

One of the biggest advantages of having four incubi mated to him is that it’s made their bonds all somewhat... less intense. Not weaker, per say, nor unimportant. Herc can still feel all of them, a quiet little drift in the back of his mind, still has to be there to feed them and take care of them, but...

Fortunately, as the patriarch of this deliciously fuckeduo situation, he can set the rules. And one of the things Herc's good with is that as long his boys are within Herc’s territory, they’re still within the bonding magic. As long as they stay within his territory, he figures, they can feed. 

And Herc’s territory is the entire Shatterdome, now that he’s Marshall.

So it’s really not an odd sight these days, what Herc walks into, down in Striker’s briefing room for the post-op hot wash.

Chuck, bent over a small table at the front of the room, completely naked with the crew chief’s dick all the way up his tight little arse, his own erection bound up in one of Yancy’s favorite cock cages, bouncing against his flat abs. Yancy, perched on the edge of the table, is petting Chuck’s hair, shooting the breeze with Chief.

The room’s half-full already.

Nobody’s batting an eye.

“G’ afternoon, Chief, Ranger Becket,” Herc says, nodding at the crew chief and offering Yancy a quick kiss. He brushes his fingers across Chuck’s cheek. “Hey, sweetie. You have a good time out there, killing that kaijuu?”

“Yes, Daddy,” Chuck smiles back, and pushes back against their crew chief’s rolling hips, hard. Boy wants more, and why shouldn’t he have it? Him and Yancy bagged their second kill together this morning. If Chuck wants to celebrate by getting fucked in the briefing room, then he should _get fucked in the briefing room_. He looks so pretty, too, still smelling faintly of relay gel and sweat, bare arse smacking against the chief’s khaki-clad thighs, his own exhaustion fading away as the human’s arousal grows, face a little flushed and bottom lip between his teeth, riding that cock for all it can give him.

Not that it can give him more than Daddy’s could. Of course not. But Herc understands. Mated or not, his boys are still boys, and they want to have their fun. 

“Oi, you can fuck him harder than that,” Herc tells Chief, and spanks one of his son’s trembling, naked thighs. Fuck, Chuck is gorgeous naked. Really, that’s the way incubi deserve to be. Herc would fucking love it if he could let his son walk around everywhere without clothes. Maybe someday. It’s a nice thought. “You have my permission.”


	8. Skype Chat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lol, so remember when I made it canon that incubi can't masturbate?

_So honey, what are you wearing?_

It’s the first thing Angela types when she gets on the call with Herc. Doesn’t even wait for her husband to say hello - _brother_ , her traitorous brain supplies, and there’s a thought she’s been trying to quash lately, trying to get through this current deployment as _Angela_ , hoping that maybe, if she really applies herself, doesn’t shift back, doesn’t even think about her native-born male form, she can just disappear into what she is, with no more guilt about being a freak of nature nyphomania sex addict who’s fucking his brother _goddammit_. 

She (he, and he knows this) needs Herc. And if she can’t be riding him right now, his thick cock buried inside of her, the least he can do is talk dirty to her, right?

She doesn’t feel bad about it. Not at all. She’s his wife; she’s supposed to want to fuck his brains out every second of the day.

Herc, on the other end of the lagging Skype connection, replies immediately 

**It’s good to see you too, sweetheart. How’s Charlie?**

_At school, he’s fine, misses his daddy but he’s fine, but I’m not_ and she erases those last two words, not wanting to sound too plaintive, to beg, to worry him. _I’d like to play please._

**They monitor our conversations, angel girl.**

_Don’t tell me that bothers you. I know you, Herc. You like it a little naughty._

**Not I want to get court martialled naughty.**

Impressed that he typed that many words so quickly, Angela rolls up, resting her computer on their bed between her spread legs. Of course she’s naked - the second Charlie’s out of the house, her clothes are on the floor. _I’ll send you a photo,_ she types.

**I WILL get court**

But she hits the camera button, sends it, before he can type out the rest of his whinging. 

_But I’m wet for you,_ Angela adds. 

It takes a few moments for her silly man to respond. 

**Now isn’t that a beautiful sight? ******

_It is,_ she replies, feeling smug, as she curls over on her side and pulls the computer back to her fingers. _If you were here, what would you do to it?_

**What would be my angel’s pleasure?**

She smiles to herself. She always wins in the end. _I’d quite like my husband’s tongue,_ she tells him, and definitely does not think about how it would feel to have that very skilled mouth work his cock. 

+++++

Scott’s never tried to play that game with Herc before.

Turns out, the man is very articulate when it comes to describing performing sex acts on his wife’s nubile body.

Too bad it’s all a lie.

Throwing his towel aside, Scott pads mostly dry and fully naked into the bedroom. He put all of his clothes into storage for this, hoping that would help encourage him not to shift back. But while Herc might be trying to figure out a way to get back to his quarters from the morale tent without anybody noticing he came in his pants, Scott’s left with nothing but vague frustration and a desperate hunger for his brother’s cock. Cock in general, actually.

He’s only two weeks into this deployment, too. How the hell is he going to get through another five months of this?

He needs something inside of him, right the hell now. He needs to _come_. He aches from the lack of it. 

Herc’s clothes are a close enough fit, and despite the general shoddiness of it - Angela does her best to keep her husband looking presentable, but they are living on a sergeant’s salary, after all - Scott feels pretty good about his chances of getting laid tonight at his favorite cruise club.

It’s not really cheating on Herc if he’s wearing his male body, right? After all, Herc married Angela, not _him_.

Scott knows he could never be that lucky.


	9. Against a Wall

As much as Herc wishes it was otherwise, it is physically impossible for him to fuck more than one of his boys at the same time. At least, not with his cock. It would make his life easier - feeding his boys is fun, but time-consuming. 

He’s developed some shortcuts.

This is one of his favorites.

Chuck up against the wall, legs spread and hands bracing, at just the right angle for Herc to drive up into him with long, smooth strokes. Just enough room for Raleigh to slot himself in, between wall and eager baby brother, to take Chuck’s cute little cock down his throat, rubbing those pale, freckled thighs. Yancy right there beside him, whispering to him - _look at you taking our daddy, such a good little boy Charlie, so good for Daddy, your ass is so wet and open feel likes heaven, can you feel how much he loves you?_ \- as he mercilessly strokes the kid’s prostate, tail snaked in up alongside Herc’s massive length. Scott joins in sometimes, on the other side, but Max was being fussy this evening and Scott never misses an opportunity to coo over their baby, so cooing in the other room it is.

“Someday,” Herc tells Chuck conversationally, biting lightly at the back of his neck, the point of his shoulder, “someday I’m going to do this in front of a window. One of those fancy high rise hotels. All the lights on. So everyone can see what a little cumslut my boy is. Would you like that? Would you like the world to know what a little slut you are for your daddy?”

Chuck drops his head to the wall and _shudders_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry these are short! I'm moving into my new apartment at the end of the week, so hopefully I'll be able to write a bit more.


	10. Doggy Style

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...except Yancy had some feels

“I was wondering why you weren’t in the nest yet,” Yancy says casually, as he takes the tablet out of Herc’s hands. “Still working, huh?”

Laying his reading glasses aside on the arm of the sofa, Herc blinks up at his boy. His sweet Yancy. Completely naked, blonde hair adorably bed-mussed, tail drooping sleepily around one hard thigh. 

“Damn paperwork never stops. You know that.”

“Hard work, being king of the Shatterdome,” Yancy teases, perching on the edge of the coffee table. The words are light, but his eyes are... well, if Herc’s learned anything about his oldest son in the past few years, it’s that the boy’s practically incapable of expressing genuine emotion in any kind of genuine way. Everything goes on with him far, far below the surface. Herc still hasn’t figured out if that’s an incubus thing or a _Yancy_ thing. 

“All this shit, it matters, you know,” Herc tells him, almost reflexively, and tilts his head. “It’s past midnight. Why’re you up?”

Yancy flushes a bit. “Max was havin’ a nightmare.”

Herc grunts. “Crawled on in again, did he?” His youngest is almost three now and damn well knows the rules about sleeping in his own bed like a big boy. But whether from some kind of nascent incubus instinct or sheer Hansen stubbornness, he finds excuses to invade the family nest more nights than not. And he’s getting sneakier about it; Herc didn’t even hear the 

“Not like I mind, but,” and Yancy licks his lip, that little nervous tic of his. 

And Herc gets it.

So he holds out a hand. “You know,” he says as he stands up, “I know you ate earlier today, that cute new boy you’ve got on the crew.”

“New boy’s just a boy,” Yancy replies, a little breathless, fingers wrapping around Herc’s.

“Felt it when you came inside of him,” Herc tells him, unable to keep the growl out of his voice. Yancy shivers; Herc starts pulling him in. “Felt your pleasure at the way he tasted, innocent and novel.”

“Don’t care about that,” Yancy says, and rubs his cheek against Herc’s shoulder. “Only want you.”

“I know, sweetheart,” Herc murmurs in his ear, kissing his cheek. “I know what you want. So get your slutty little arse up on the sofa. I’m gonna fuck it raw.”

Yancy giggles, gleefully letting himself be thrown forward onto the end cushions of their huge sectional. “Like that?” he teases, wriggling his arse, tail wagging a little.

“Perfect,” Herc says, and unbuttons his khakis.

Five minutes later, Herc’s got a good rhythm going, cock driving in and in and in to his boy’s delectable arse, those lean hips canted high and his toes curling against the suede. He’s being a good boy, muffling his moans in a pillow so he doesn’t wake little Max in the next room, pushing back against every one of his daddy’s thrusts.

“Such a good boy,” Herc praises, running a hand down that flexing spine, and wraps Yancy’s tail around his wrist for better traction.


	11. Fisting

“Jesus, hurry up, would you? Daddy’s going to be back any minute!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Raleigh replies, and adjusts the angle of his hand. He knows exactly how to find Chuck’s prostate with his fingers, but his knuckles? That’s an entirely different matter altogether. So this is a little more experimental than usual, pushing, probing, trying to keep up that nice pounding motion while trying to hit just the right spot. Raleigh’s thinking about it almost enough to ignore the slickness between his own legs.

Almost.

Because they’ve never done this before; they’re not supposed to be doing this now.

And Raleigh tried to rationalize this, when Chuck jumped him ten minutes ago and demanded a good hard fisting. Sure, Daddy’s got a rule that nobody sticks anything up Chuck’s ass but him, but that’s just because Chuck kept wheedling sex out of Yancy after ops, right? And they kept getting caught? And it was a public relations problem? It’s not like Daddy’s going to spank them both for this when he gets back from date night with Uncle Scott, right?

Or maybe Daddy will spank them, Raleigh thinks now.

That’d be lovely.

Raleigh rubs his drenched thighs together, trying to find his own clit some relief, and keeps going.

Chuck is so wet, ass clenching down around Raleigh’s wrist, body fighting against the shockwaves ripping through him every time his brother’s fist jams further up inside of him, and Raleigh can _feel_ the moment when he finally - finally - knocks the kid’s breath clean out of his body.

“Ohholyhelljesusfuck!” Chuck moans, back arching up off the bed, and Raleigh’s right there on him, catching his little brother’s cock in his mouth and tummy with his free hand, uncurling his fingers to stroke that magical little nub. Make this last as long as it can.

Yancy comes back just as Raleigh’s sucking the last bit of cum from Chuck’s flagging erection, Max asleep in his arms. He casts one eye over the fucked-out pair in the next. Chuckles.

“Did I ever tell you what Daddy did to me, last time he caught me fucking Charlie there?”

“‘M’ name’s not Charlie,” Chuck grumbles, half-unconscious, and makes a half-hearted attempt to throw a pillow at Yancy.

Yancy, who dodges it easily, still chuckling. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you, kiddos,” he laughs, heading back for Max’s room.

Chuck runs a hand through Raleigh’s hair. “Fu’ him. Kiss me?”

“Sure,” Raleigh says, and frees his hand with not a little effort, smug when he sees the mess he’s made of both the sheets and Chuck’s body.

It’s a glow that lasts just about as long as it takes Daddy and Scott to get home.

“Picked up a new one on the way back,” Daddy says conversationally, brandishing up a brand-new chastity belt. “We hit up the BDSM supply place this time. They tell me the lock can’t be picked. Who’d like to give it a whirl?”


	12. Fingering

“C’mon, Becket. You gonna sleep all day or what? We’re takin’ Max to the zoo.”

Yancy grunts and rolls over without answering Scott; of course he knows everyone else is awake. Up. Out. Like he couldn’t feel that the nest is empty? But he has no desire to be part of today’s PR stunt. He’s kind of really pissed about the way Daddy handled that press conference last night.

What Daddy did. What Daddy asked in front of the whole goddamn world.

“Do I need to give you a countdown?”

“Fuck off,” he grumbles, tugging the blankets tighter around him. 

But of course, Scott doesn’t budge. In fact, Scott sits down right next to him, back to the wall and feet kicked out in front of him. “Cranky, are we?”

And to think that Scott, Herc’s first mate, Herc’s goddamn _wife_ , can be so cavalier about... Yancy turns back over, running a hand through his hair. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Nothing,” Scott says blandly. “You?”

“Daddy fucking proposed to Raleigh. On an international live broadcast.”

“Yeah. So?”

Another stab of irritation tickles out under Yancy’s skin. “He _proposed_. Marriage. Before he’s even had a chance to mate him! Raleigh’s still... still lactating!”

“And?”

Scott’s calm is like a sea wall on his mood. “I don’t know. It’s just... aren’t you upset?”

“No.” Scott scoots further down, on his side, one hand on Yancy’s arm. “Angie was Herc’s wife. But even with her gone, I’m still his mate. Besides,” and he kisses Yancy’s cheek, “he’s mostly doing it because your brother’s been feeling a bit left out. And for immigration purposes.”

“Immigration?”

“Yeah. The government’s a right pack of pricks when it comes to immigration. From the rest of the Anglosphere at least, go fucking figure. Can’t have you boys surfing on your PPDC passports forever, can we?”

Yancy blinks, bracing himself up on his elbows, taking that in. “Wait, are you saying...”

“Actually,” Scott murmurs in his ear, a faint hint of nervousness under the cocky words, “I was rather hoping you’d ask me.”

Heat warms through his gut at the thought; something special with Scott too. Daddy’s boy, Chuck’s co-pilot, Raleigh’s big brother, and Scott’s...

Oh yeah. His family.

He likes that idea very, very much.

Not bothering to reply right away, Yancy rolls out of the blankets, shaking his horns out, wings spreading wide as he moves to straddle Scott’s hips. He likes to think of this as his _incubus in a Renaissance painting_ pose, and the effect - to his delight - is not lost on Scott. Not that he’d ever kill anybody with sex, but there’s something about this that feels powerful. Strong. In control. Yancy might love being his daddy’s boy, have a tattoo over his heart attesting to that, but he’s still a predator and sometimes, it’s nice to feel a bit of that. Nice to be in charge.

He runs thoughtful hands down his daddy’s brother’s chest, pulling himself back, until he’s resting on Scott’s thighs, fingers looped under Scott’s waistband.

“Ask you what?” Yancy ponders, undoing those khakis. He can feel Scott’s erection already rising to meet him; he knows that mating is a far deeper, far more intense connection than mere human matrimony, but at the same time, humans seem to put great stock in it. Must be fun. Worth trying. Something new - incubi are always looking for something new. “What would you like me to ask you?”

“Yance...”

“How about,” and Yancy wraps his tail delicately around Scott’s cock, lifting it out of the way while his fingers slide back, catching in the wetness already pooling around Scott’s entrance, “I ask you if I can finger you before breakfast?”

Scott’s panting, hips lifting. “We’ve got... the zoo...”

Grinnng, Yancy slides two fingers through that little pucker of muscle and spreads. “Too late.”

The damn paparazzi are going to have to wait. He wants to have some fun with his fiancee’s ass first.


	13. Outdoors

This is his favorite thing, Scott decides, as his Chuck snuggles in closer to him. Sunlight, fresh air, a soft blanket beneath his back and a gentle breeze above, his son’s body still stretched around his cock, no damn fire ants, the scent of grass clippings bringing back the happier memories of childhood...

And sure, it’s all mixed with the scents of human arousal and all the loveliness that follows, but it’s the squadron picnic. What, is that not supposed to include an orgy?

The freedom of it... to sunbathe naked in the midst of all of this...

Yeah, sometimes Scott loves his life.

Besides his youngest who’s warming his cock right now, Raleigh and Yancy are ensconced under the main pavilion, right in the midst of what was quite a lovely barbecue, Scott’s sure. Both of them seem quite allergic to clothes under normal circumstances, and the private gardens they’ve rented for the day’s festivities is rimmed with security guards; they’re thoroughly enjoying themselves. Over in the sand pit, a group of techs have taken up an impromptu game of naked volleyball, which Raleigh seems to be fascinated by, Yancy happily buried between his little brother’s spread legs. Raleigh’s petting his hair. Yancy’s nails are digging into his thighs.

“Enjoying yourself, angel?” Herc asks, plopping down again on the blanket, fresh beer in hand.

Scott luxuriates in the pet name, stretching coyly out against his sleeping son. “Would you like to, Marshall Hansen?”

Herc chuckles and offers him a kiss, warmed by the booze. Like everyone else out here today, he’s mostly naked, smelling of sunscreen and the last three rounds of good sex. “I always enjoy you.”

“I don’t know. Maybe I need a reminder.”

Leaning over to stroke Chuck’s hair, Herc scoffs. “I’ve already given you two good reminders in the past twenty-four hours. Any more and my dick’ll fall off.”

“I don’t know. Feels pretty hard to me.”

“Cheeky cunt,” Herc says affectionately, and kisses him again. “So when’d the boy drop off?”

“Just after you left,” Scott tells him. “Ate himself into a sex coma, I think.”

Herc’s lips don’t leave Scott’s cheek. “I’ll eat you into a food coma.”

“Thought you said your dick would fall off,” Scott teases back.

“Who said anything about fucking you, hmm?” Herc’s voice is a rumble, low and throaty, and his fingers are doing that _thing_ again that’s just not... “why don’t you shift for me? Been a few weeks since I tasted my girl’s clit.”


	14. 69

Raleigh’s starting to understand why Yancy seems sleep-deprived and cranky all the time; it’s tough, being a big brother. He’s got so many things he wants to teach Chuck - so many things the kid needs to know, about life and being an incubus and just _everything_ \- but there aren’t enough hours in the day. 

Plus, it’s Chuck Hansen here. World famous battle diva.

If his son turns out half as obstinate, Raleigh’s not sure what the hell he’s going to do.

But time enough to worry about that later. Raleigh hasn’t quite passed into his third trimester yet, Daddy’s baby still just about the size of a banana, still snug and secure. Dreaming away. Moving occasionally. Perfectly safe. No way he can get in trouble where he is right now.

Chuck, on the other hand...

“Oi, guess I have to ask again, huh? Where’s Yancy? I’m hungry.”

Chuck’s all dressed up. Looks real good. That’s one of those big brother things Raleigh - and okay, sure, Yancy too - have been passing down to him. The importance of looking the part, if you’re going on a hunt. Better to look like a billionaire’s houseboy than a low rent whore, Yancy always says. It doesn’t hurt that the tabloids have picked up on it, Yancy also says, because those headlines like _Striker Eureka’s new team joined at the hip_ and _Aussie-American duo tearing up the Sydney party scene_ are good for the mission, good for the civiies, good for the family, good for everybody.

Yeah, everybody but _him_.

“What?” Raleigh grumps, and turns off the TV, twisting to look over the back of the sofa. He instantly regrets it, the sore muscles of his back twinging something fierce. “I can’t go out with you?”

“Come up with a maternity blouse that hides the baby bump, find some pants that aren’t sweats, and don’t whine to be about the headlines tomorrow about how fat you’ve gotten, and yeah, sure, I’m down with that,” Chuck says casually, and beats a little rhythm on the cushions. “But like, for real. Where’s Yancy? Daddy said we could have take-away tonight.”

It takes a bit of effort, but Raleigh pulls himself and his stupid belly up, so he can stare up at Chuck with slightly less of a height difference. “I haven’t seen Yancy all day. But I’m here.”

“But you’re fat,” Chuck says in that infuriatingly factual way of his.

“With your little brother,” Raleigh snaps back.

Chuck has the decency to flush. “I just meant, with your back being, like, fucked up and all...”

Ah. Right. 

Like he’s going to let the little shit get away with that.

“Teaching moment,” he says, and waggles his fingers in a come-hither motion as he settles himself back down on the couch. Flat on his back. Knees lifting and spread. “C’mere, little brother. Get naked. Want to show you something.”

Chuck cocks his head. “What haven’t we done?” he asks, reflexively pulling off his jacket.

Raleigh grins. “Plenty.”

+++++

The pair of frat boys on Yancy’s arm have been tittering pretty much non-stop since he brought them into the ‘Dome. (Sure, it’s easier to feed off the techs, but it’s not as much fun, and when Daddy lets him play, he plays.)

He doesn’t need their silence, once he pushes them into the room, to know that something’s up.

“Having a good night, kiddos?” Yancy asks conversationally, wrapping a stronger thread of influence around the humans, leaning over the edge of the sofa. “Tastes good, doesn’t he?”

Neither of one them answer. Obviously. How could they? Chuck’s braced up over Raleigh on his elbows, face buried in that lovely wetness between his legs, tongue enthusiastically dancing across Raleigh’s swollen clit. Raleigh’s moaning around Chuck’s dick, the outline of it visible in his mouth as he works what he can, squirming, trying to adjust for the height difference or in pleasure, Yancy can’t tell. Both familial bond and ghost drift are assailing him with sensation; the taste of precum, of Raleigh’s juices, the feel of muscle flexing beneath the skin, the roughness of callouses, the thrill of new things.

Neither one of them answer. 

But Chuck does give Yancy a thumbs-up sign.

Laughing at that, Yancy gives Chuck a swat on the ass and Raleigh a pat on the head, and then he goes to collect his frat boys. Daddy and Scott are going to be back any minute, and then the real party can start.


	15. Boring Sex

It’s not always good.

It should be, but it’s not.

Yancy’s come to expect this. Sometimes a guy eats to enjoy it, and sometimes he just eats because he needs to eat.

No point in dwelling on it.

The first time it happens with Daddy, though... that’s unexpected.

Isn’t it always supposed to be, well, good?

Maybe it doesn’t matter, Yancy tells himself, pulling his mind as far away from his family as he can, even as he lays there in their nest, eyes on the ceiling, Daddy attacking a giggling Raleigh and Chuck with biting little kisses. Scott’s already asleep, dreams starting to churn down in the depths.

Daddy’s cum is still warm, coating his thighs and belly, but Yancy doesn’t even feel like taking a taste.

It didn’t feel like... well, anything, really.

At least it doesn’t feel like rejection though. The bond’s still there. The love’s still there. It can’t always be good.

Yancy understands that. He really does. Even if he doesn’t - they’re mates after all. Isn’t it always supposed to be bright and glowing?

Daddy doesn’t say anything when he eases his way around and out of bed, collecting sweats and tank and hitting the corridors bare-footed, his little brothers’ laughter still drifting out after him. He’d like to stretch out his wings, Yancy would, but he can’t do it right now. 

Not until he finds the stairs, then the catwalks, ladder, access hatch, that Chuck’s shown him before. Not until he’s out under the stars, the bright glowing lights of Sydney.

He shuts his eyes and puts his face into the night breeze.

It smells of the sea; Yancy, for the life of him, can’t remember how salt tastes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All apologies to SD, but I took down the SPN crossover. Didn’t feel right to me, and I’m guessing it didn’t feel right to most everyone else. It might go back up if I can fix it; I don’t know if I can, though. Took down the horns one too. I’m going to try to see if I can scrub all those references out of this tomorrow night too. Bridge too far. I think it sort of ruined it all, and I’m really sorry about that.


	16. Sweet and Passionate

The ocean is no place to take a holiday. Not anymore - too much bad energy out there, as far as Scott’s concerned. He hasn’t set foot in a jaeger in almost eighteen months, and the sight of blue water still makes his stomach churn.

The desert, in all its pre-dawn glory, is far more peaceful.

Bouncing a half-asleep Max on his hip on the balcony of their Yularu cabin, Scott takes a deep breath of the warm evening air. It’s monsoon season, clouds moving low and fast across the far red bulk of Uluru, settling something in the incubus’ heart. This place has always been here; even if the kaijuu win and the world dies, that rock will still stand yet. It’ll survive them all. 

Max squirms, making a few little noises as he drifts off. Just like the rest of them, he doesn’t do well by himself. Hates being put down in the little travel crib. Scott never minds taking point on that. He doesn’t even mind the diapers. He forgot how much he missed babies, until Max came along. 

“Shh baby, I know,” Scott coos at him, and kisses his forehead, reaching behind them to open the slider, back inside. His dreams are starting to rise, little swirls of color Yancy has taught Scott how to recognize. Time to put him to bed.

Time to go to bed himself.

Letting himself back inside, Scott digs his bare toes into the lovely carpet, thinking.

A few nights here, then they’ll take the long drive back to Sydney. Ten days is all the time Herc was able to take off, Yancy and Chuck fresh off their second kill and no kaijuu projected to surface for at least a month. A nice family holiday. They’d never had them as children, Herc and him, and never could afford them for Chuck either. Scott doesn’t want that for Max, doesn’t want him to know how bad humans can...

“Your thoughts are loud, you know,” Herc teases.

Smiling, Scott gratefully accepts the hug that’s offered, wrapping him and his young nephew in the surety of their patriarch’s arms. “You’re starting to sound like Yancy,” he teases lightly, swaying away again, headed for the spare bedroom they’re using as the nursery. 

“You say it like it’s a bad thing.”

“Nothing bad about any of you.” He lays Max gently down, bending to kiss his forehead. Little fists ball up, face scrunching, but the sprog’s eyes are long shut. A touch falls at the small of his waist, and Scott lets himself be guided up again. “I miss our Charlie.”

“He’s just in the next room,” Herc chides gently, eyes warm.

“You know what I mean.”

“You’ll always be his mum,” Herc reassures Scott, rubbing his shoulder now. “And you’re such a good mum.”

“I left him when...”

“Shh,” And Herc puts a finger on his lips, silencing all the old doubts Scott’s never been quite able to shake. “C’mon, let’s go to bed, eh? Rals and Chuck are back.”

“Ooh,” Scott replies, following, pausing only to shut Max’s door. “They bring somebody?”

“No,” Herc replies, and drags Scott in, hand slipping into a worn khaki pocket. “You’ve got me all to yourself tonight.”

“Aren’t we going to give you a heart attack?” Scott asks, a little helplessly. 

Herc grins, like he can read his mind - which, of course, he basically can - and squeezes Scott’s arse through his pocket. “We’re on holiday, angel mine. Figure I should let my boys enjoy themselves.”

Scott kisses his jaw. There’s something about the dip and the downcast gaze required by such a gesture that just makes him feel... right. “Love you, ‘Le.”

“I know, Scotty.”

“Quoting Star Wars, are we?”

“Get your arse in the bedroom.”

They - or rather, Yancy - have done their usual thing in the bedroom, converting the space into a makeshift nest. Mattresses on the floor, every pillow in the cabin piles high about the blankets. And right in the center of in, Yancy and Raleigh have Chuck on his back, the whimpers coming out of him the pleased alto of his female form, thick creamy thighs wrapped high around Yancy’s waist and long hair falling across Raleigh’s shoulders, where the younger Becket is latched on to his nipple. Chuck’s eyes are closed, screwed tight in pleasure. Yancy’s working him slow, Scott sees as he steps into the room, one finger sliding gently across his clit as his hips roll forward languidly.

It’s frank and sweet and straightforward in a way that Chuck only ever allows when he’s, well, a girl. 

Scott adores him like this.

And when Scott sinks to his knees next to his baby, when gray eyes blink open through happy tears to smile at him, it’s in his own female skin. The khaki shorts he was wearing are left on the floor behind him, too big to stay up on Angela’s slighter hips.

“Heya, Mummy,” Chuck whispers, drunk on his building orgasm.

“Hi there, angel baby,” Scott whispers back, and tilts Chuck’s chin up, pert breasts fitting against the curve of his boy’s shoulder. “Such a good girl for Mummy, aren’t we?”

“Yes, Mummy.”

“I know,” he purrs, and kisses Chuck deeply.

The Beckets cede their conquest here gracefully, Yancy’s fingers obediently withdrawing as Scott’s press in, Raleigh’s mouth moving back when Scott dips to slide a flat tongue across an over-sensitized nipple. Savoring the moan he draws loose from his son as he takes control, Scott lays a gentle hand around the base of that huge breast, pushing it up as it tries to slip away from him. Gods, he loves his boy’s curves.

Raleigh pulls away when the mattresses dips again and Scott looks up in time to see him pressed fully into Herc’s ams, desperately seeking out his daddy’s mouth.

Once, Scott might have been jealous.

Once, though, life was not nearly as good as it is now.

“Come for me, baby love,” Scott purrs in Chuck’s ear. “Show your mum just how beautiful you are when you’re being a good, obedient little girl."


	17. Public Place

“Is that what you want, sweetheart? Want Daddy to fuck another baby into you, right here, right like this?”

Sandwiched between Daddy’s overheated body and the LOCCENT observation glass, Raleigh doesn’t even try to hide his arousal. Or embarrassment. Or horns, which are out right now, because it’s Halloween and the whole ‘Dome’s celebrating beneath them and fuck the humans, he doesn’t have to dress up. It’s the one night a year he gets to be what he is.

Every year since Richard left them, Raleigh and Yancy have always done that; thrown on pseudo-serious clothing with holes cut for their wings.

Nice to know their _real_ daddy is a fan of the effect.

“Gods, Daddy...”

“You like that, don’t you?” Daddy purrs in his ear, sweet and vicious at the same time, blunt fingernails digging into Raleigh’s hips, cock buried, throbbing inside of him. “Wanting me to give Max a little brother, in view of the entire goddamn ‘Dome. Daddy’s little _whore_ wants his greedy little cunt filled.”

“Please,” Raleigh pants, cheek to the glass, little horns bumping the hard surface, desperately trying to push back into Daddy. 

“You know how hard it is for me? Even on a normal day? Tempting me, teasing me, wearing tight little clothes over your perfect tight body,” Daddy’s voice continues in his ear, hips still steadfastly not moving. “You’re making me do this to you, you know. Prancing around, showing your slutty little arse to god and everyone...”

There’s no room for Raleigh to arch his back, present himself more properly. There’s no room to even _think_. All there is is his schoolgirl costume, shredded on the floor behind him. All there is is the scent of his mate’s skin - his daddy’s skin - driving all logical thought from his mind. All there is are the glowing, pulsating neon of the impromptu dance floor set up below, the driving beat of hard house, fifty feet down on the hangar floors, setting fire to the grinding, seething mass of humans below. 

It was dark when Daddy pulled him in here.

But Daddy turned on the lights.

Anyone could see them.

Everyone would...

Everyone would know he belongs to Marshall Hercules Hansen. 

Everyone will know just how loved he is.

“Please,” Raleigh moans again, twisting against the glass, the hard iron of Daddy’s wonderful hands. “ _Please_.”

"Mm," Daddy hums, and pulls out, only to slam back in without any mercy at all. "I think we'll let the 'Dome watch me use all three of your holes tonight." 

Raleigh wonders if he could reach the intercom button with his tail.


	18. On the Floor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... no actual sex?

“Why do we make nests, Yancy?”

It’s an innocent question. The kind of question Yancy would expect out of Max, maybe. But then, Chuck and Max are frighteningly similar, those Hansen genes breeding true, and Chuck’s really more _Charlie_ than he cares to admit. Take him out of the conn-pod, out of his drive suit, strip him down naked and tuck him into bed - exactly like he is now - and he’s nothing but a sweet twenty-year-old boy. Especially when they just get done with a ten hour drift. 

Would have been their seventh kill, beating the Kaidanovskies’ record, but whatever. 

He kind of hates seeing Chuck this wrung out. Even if it is adorable.

“I don’t know,” Yancy tells him, honest, curling his fingers through his shower-damp hair, gaze pulling over his shoulder. 

Scott and Raleigh are already asleep on the other side of the nest, Raleigh half-dressed and Scott wearing Angela’s form, Max tucked in between them. Daddy’s finishing up the after-action reports for the UN and the PR department. It was a hard fight; CAT-4, tough bitch. Striker’s going to be in dry dock for at least two months for repairs. Fights like that are hard on the whole family. Hard on Max, who no doubt cried himself to sleep - he loves seeing them win, but Vulcan Spectre took the day, especially after the conn-pod HUD cracked and they lost all visibility. That had been a damn scary fifteen minutes, fighting blind. 

But Yancy did what he could. Got Chuck home safe, no injuries that couldn’t heal up on the long ride back in. They’ve both got a new set of drive suit scars, but no harm there.

“You always know,” Chuck protests.

The kid’s unshakable. Yancy still feels gooey inside, and Chuck’s already back to the whining.

“This, a nest? It just feels right.”

“But there’s got to be a reason for it. Instincts come from somewhere.”

“We didn’t exactly evolve from monkeys or whatever, kiddo. Some things just are.”

Chuck turns in his arms, exhausted eyes still managing to register keen curiosity. “But then where did we come from?”

Yancy kisses his forehead. “Lillith.”

“Who’s she?”

“You wouldn’t like the story,” Yancy considers. “It’s not scientific enough.” He puts little air quotes around the word “scientific.” 

Chuck hits him. “I like stories!”

“You’re just going to tell me it’s not true.”

“Fuck off, no I won’t.” Chuck curls closer, smiling winsomely. “Please, big brother? Tell me the story?”

Yancy sighs. “Okay, fine. So back in the young days of the world, before humans came to be, the Old Ones walked the earth...”

“What, like fucking Cthulhu?”

“Huh? No. The Old Gods, beings of great power, who spoke to animals and commanded the seas. There was one called Inanna, who tended a dark garden bridging a wide river, unrivaled in its beauty and depth by anything the humans have since created.” Yancy tries to remember exactly how his mom put it for him. It certainly sounds more poetic in French. “She was a woman of great and terrible beauty. Every one of the other desert gods vied for her, but her lust could not be satiated by any of them.”

“But she’s not Lillith, right?”

“Would you let me tell this? Anyway, she and her kind heard of something else coming, something bringing light from the far sky that had never been before. They watched the stars come alive, bursting across the heavens, and they knew it to be a harbinger of their own doom.”

“And that was?”

“What do you think?” Yancy snorts, thinks about Tendo, and coughs. “The Old Gods, seeking to appease the light cast upon their lands, fought amongst themselves to present it with gifts, offerings for mercy. But they did not have the same fire for their forges or candlelight to illuminate their pottery wheels, so whatever they made came out imperfect, flawed. Inanna, in her gardens, had no concern for impressing a light that she couldn’t fuck, and thought only of herself. But yet, one day, when she was cutting wood, she found a creature curled up in the bole of a cypress. It looked so similar to the creatures the light was loosing upon their world, she bundled it up and took it to the star-lit gardens.”

Chuck’s eyes are wide. “And?”

“And while Adam was keenly interested in Inanna’s beautiful offering, his creator was not,” Yancy says drily. “She laid with him but one night before they were discovered, and then she was cast out, alone, belly seeded and heart empty. She went home, to her own mother’s gardens, hiding her sorrow in the hollows of the trees where she was born, only to come out again when her hunger was too great, lured by the fire in the human heart.” He pulls his fingers slowly through his little brother’s hair, feeling Chuck’s cock pulsing against his leg. “So I guess that’s why we like nests, sleeping on the ground, in close, dark places. It’s where Lillith found her comfort.”

Chuck was quiet for a moment. “Then why do we have horns?”

Yancy chuckles a little, and kisses him again. “I think we picked those up in the Middle Ages. Humans have magic in them too, after all.”

“They changed us?”

There’s a faint noise at the door, and Yancy looks up. Right at Daddy, who’s standing there with a sad little smile on his face, arms crossed. He’s in his uniform still, rumpled from a long duty day, watching the fight from LOCCENT. “They always change us,” he says, and lets his fangs drop, holding out a hand across Chuck’s shoulders to their father. “Don’t they?”

“It’s a sad story,” Daddy says quietly.

“All the best stories are sad,” Yancy replies.

“Not ours,” Daddy replies, and drops to his knees next to them, reaching out to stroke Chuck’s cheek, pull Yancy’s hand in for a kiss. “Never.”


	19. Sleepy Mornings

Raleigh’s always first up. It’s always been that way, as long as he can remember. Back when he and Yancy used to share a room as kids, he always tried to be quiet, playing with his toys as silent as he could, watching TV with his headphones on. After Yancy changed and they started sleeping in different rooms, Raleigh used to make as much noise as he could in the bathroom, in the kitchen, with the TV in the living room, whatever he could do to get his big brother’s attention. Yancy sleeps like the dead, though; even after they made up, Raleigh normally found himself spending the mornings alone. 

These days, though, he’s got three other people to worry about. Three people working crazy schedules that don’t always overlap nor provide the incubus-recommended number of hours in bed.

These days, he tries to be quiet.

But Max doesn’t always get that memo.

“There you go, baby,” he coos at his son, wiping one last bit of milk drool off his chin as he lays him back down. “There’s my good little boy.”

Max smiles - he’s started smiling this last month - and hiccups, but his eyes are already closed. Raleigh lays a hand on his chubby little belly, reaching out with his mind, brushing against his son’s thoughts. Only four months old, Max’s mind is a fog of forming emotions and brilliant curiosities, hardly intelligible, but Raleigh did carry the boy for nine months in the womb; he’s pretty sure the kid’s going to sleep for at least a few more hours.

Which is lovely.

Raleigh’s starving. 

Nursing really takes it out of him.

“How’s your boy?” Raleigh hears from behind him, and there’s Scott. Sleep pants riding low on his narrow hips, wings drooped against his shoulder blades, red hair even messier than usual, fiddling with his fingers, like he needs a cigarette or something. 

Raleigh waves Scott in. “Perfect,” he says quietly, grinning. “Just as perfect as Chuck was, probably.”

Scott grunts, but something entirely different from the morning grumps comes over his face as he leans on the edge of the crib. “He was a good little sprog.”

Raleigh leans into Scott’s shoulder. He’s still skinny, not quite yet recovered from that long starvation period, but Raleigh suspects that’s more a mental thing. Daddy’s certainly feeding him enough. 

Still.

Scott’s awake, which is more than can be said for the rest of the family.

“Wanna fuck?” Raleigh asks hopefully. 

Scott starts a bit. Eyes him. “Not here, right?”

Raleigh kisses his cheek and, taking both Scott’s hands in his own, tugs him out of the nursery. “How’s bed sound?”

“Right next to ‘Le?”

“Yeah. Let’s see if we can wake Daddy up.”

+++++

They do. In about five minutes. Daddy fusses about it, but Raleigh couldn’t care less if he’s grumpy. In fact, the grumpiness works in their favor, since it results in promises of a spanking later, after _I’ve had m’ damn coffee_.

Yet Daddy’s kisses are always sweet this time of the morning, and his cock feels as wonderful as always, and the noises made when Daddy pulls out of Raleigh’s own cunt and pushes into Scott’s ass and then back into Raleigh might just be his new favorite thing. 

Yancy doesn’t wake up.

Sad. Cause he misses a hell of a show.


	20. Chastity Belt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god, what is my life?

Chuck doesn’t like being punished.

It happens a lot because yeah, he does it on purpose, but contrary to what Mum thinks, it’s not because _he likes being punished_. Yancy’s the one who likes Daddy’s spankings, and Raleigh’s a big fan of the rough, dirty sex. Chuck’s not opposed to the cuddles that come after Daddy’s thoroughly reminded his arse who it belongs to. But as for what comes out afterward, once all that aftercare’s done? None of them like that.

So Chuck just likes doing all the things that leads up to him being punished.

And maybe because he - quite literally - comes from the sound of Daddy’s growl. The angry one. The _assume the position_ growl.

Yeah. 

That’s probably it.

He didn’t even do anything that bad this last time. In fact, he did something good. Cause Mako’s in town, and she’s still trying to figure out what she can do about the weird little dance she and Marshall Pentecost are doing, and Chuck found an unused strap-on in her tool kit and asked her if she’d like to get some practice in. That was _it._

Not that pointing that out right now, in the middle of LOCCENT, is going to help.

“That’s the kaijuu alarm, Ranger,” Stacker is saying, in that underhanded, disapproving, British way of his. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

Chuck looks over at Daddy, eyes pleading. But Daddy just nods, mind flickering a quick _we’ve got politicians here don’t be a cunt love_ at him before saying, “yes, Ranger Hansen, I do believe you and Ranger Becket ought to be suiting up now.”

DV visits. Chuck hates ‘em. If those wankers weren’t here, if he wasn’t helping play tour guide, he could just say it. _I’m not goin’ out there with a chastity belt on, with my cock in a cage and a dildo shoved up m’ arse, how am I supposed to focuse?_

But he can’t say it. “Umm, Marshall, that thing we talked about yesterday...”

“You don’t have a latex allergy, Chuck,” Daddy deflects serenely.

A hard tone of voice to achieve with those damn klaxons blaring out another false start for the apocalypse.

Chuck goes.

Yancy’s already in the drive suit room, stripped down by the time Chuck gets there. “Hey Charlie,” he says with a big smile, stupid lovely cock hanging enticingly against his tight. “Daddy give you the key?”

“Like he’s gonna hand me that thing in front of fuckin’ Parliament,” Chuck grumbles and tosses his jacket into his locker, hard as he can. He starts in on the rest of his clothes. His face is turning red, he just knows it. 

“Yeah, I suppose it would be a bit odd, taking it off his dog tag chain in LOCCENT.”

“Ranger Hansen,” their head tech acknowledges with a little tilt of his head as he comes in, arms full of circuitry suit. “Let’s get you boys ready for the drop.”

“My co-pilot’s got that damn chastity belt on again, lost the key, just like last time,” Yancy says casually, taking his own suit, like he’s not bothered by how goddamn embarrassing this is for his little brother. “That’s not gonna be a problem this time, is it?”

There’s not even a hint of influence anymore - Yancy’s got their crew _trained_. The tech grins. “You know, I thought this might happen again. Stay right there, Ranger Hansen. I had the boys fab you up a another suit, just in case. Little more stretch in the crotch.”

Yancy grins, pulling his own on. “Think I might need some of that too, Tim.”

The tech laughs and doesn’t hide the fact that he very much looks at the area in question. “Keep dreaming, Ranger Becket,” he teases, disappearing out again.

“I can make it bigger!” Yancy yells back.

Chuck punches him. “Can you focus, so we can go kill this thing?”

His stupid big brother doesn’t wipe that stupid grin off his face. “Maybe if we do real good out there today, Charlie, Daddy will reduce your cock’s sentence to a week instead of two.”

Chuck perks. 

There’s a thought.

+++++

They bag their fifth kill in record time.

Doesn’t make a difference.

Daddy does produce a remote when they get back, though, brandishing it like it’s that riding crop Yancy pretends not to like so much. 

A remote for, apparently, the four-inch dildo portion that’s seated deep in Chuck’s body, helping hold the whole damn thing in place.

Apparently the thing’s a vibrator. 

Stupid humans, making things like that.

“Oh, baby,” Daddy coos, showing it to Chuck before laying it aside and stepping into the shower with him. “Just because your cute little cock’s locked up doesn’t mean we can’t have any fun, now does it?”


	21. ...panties...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because I've had a fuck-awful year, and there's something about cuntboy Raleigh wearing panties that makes it slightly more okay. Don't ask me to explain it. It just does.
> 
> Also, Kitchen Nightmares AU? Where Herc and Chuck are the dynamic Aussie duo fixing shit restaurants all over America, and goddammit Jaz, we're not failing that badly why the fuck did you put us in for the show?

The boys all have their own thing, Scott’s learned. Chuck’s is being spoiled, Yancy’s is being punished. He supposes his own is... oral, maybe? He seems to have developed a pretty intense oral fixation, since Raleigh made him stop smoking ( _”for the baby”_ , the boy had whined with impeccable logic). Herc very much enjoys - to nobody’s surprise - being in command. 

Raleigh’s, though?

Scott can’t figure Raleigh out.

Kid hates the rumors out there that he’s trans, the random requests from different LGBT groups for interviews and endorsements, from college kids who keep asking him to come speak at their commencements for no other reason than he’s married to a man, like it’s fucking 1980 still and there’s something remarkable about that. Hell, he doesn’t even really like wearing a female form, much less anybody treating him like he’s a girl.

And yet, he fucking loves crossdressing. Loves his knickers.

 _Loves_ them. 

In the four years Scott’s been with the family - or clan, as he’s coming to think of it - he’s never seen Raleigh wear anything else.

“Think he’d like this one?” Scott asks Yancy conversationally, holding up a pale pink silky thing. It’s got everything Raleigh normally goes for (implausible, gravity-defying design, lace, little bow in the front) but Yancy shakes his head.

“He’s not all that fond of pink.”

“He’s got pink knickers.”

“Yeah, but like, not that shade?” Yancy’s got a couple of other hangers in hand. “This green seems to be pretty in this season. He’ll like this.”

“Guess you are the stripper.”

Yancy punches him. Lightly. Smiling.

Scott grunts, and puts the ones he grabbed back. He likes those - and yeah, sure, it’s not like the knickers thing is totally lost on him. He spent a decade as woman. Wasn’t exactly wearing boxer shorts under his dresses. 

Not that they had money for the nice stuff back then. Scott would have never thought to even set foot in a shop like Agent Provocateur. But the place has its own private security - very handy for dealing with the paparazzi that tried to follow them here - and a very discreet manager. 

Angela never had a pair of real silk knickers.

“Shouldn’t we get him some, I don’t know, daily use ones too?”

“Dude, it’s Christmas,” Yancy says, like that explains anything. 

Scott doesn’t even want to look at the bill, when he hands over his credit card.

+++++

Technically, Yancy and Raleigh are pagan, and neither Herc nor Scott has had much use for any kind of higher power since it didn’t stop their dad from hitting them, back when they were kids. But Scott had always tried to have Christmas for his Chuck, even when they were flat broke or Herc was in Afghanistan, and he’s insisting on it now, with Max. 

Max knows - of course, clever little boy that he is - that they don’t exactly have a normal family situation. But he doesn’t know that Raleigh actually gave birth to him, or that the only human in the clan is his daddy, or what the future holds for him. They all want him to have as normal a childhood as he can. 

So that means Christmas. Ornaments and hot chocolate and a tree and sappy poems and that comic book about Santa’s origins, where all the female elves have huge boobs. 

Yancy grumbled about it, the first year.

Now he’s the one who goes all out in decorating their quarters.

Santa always comes in the morning, and this year, Max is old enough to ask for what he wants. He gets a huge LEGO set and that junior robotics kit he’s been wanting since the summer, _just like Chuck’s!_ he’d begged, pointing at his big brother’s work bench. He goes to the party the ‘Dome’s throwing for everyone’s kids, and eats too much sugar, and plays with his new toys and finally collapses around eight with a fistful of LEGOs in hand and the Muppets on TV.

Which means their Christmas can start.

Instead of everybody buying gifts for everybody, they go on a lottery system; one person buys for somebody else, so they all get something but their flat doesn’t get filled up with useless shit and discarded wrapping paper. They exchange little, innocuous things in front of Max, but the real gifts don’t come out until, well, now.

Herc gets a box of “special” Cubans from Raleigh. Chuck gets the key to his current punishment from Herc, along with that latex supply kit he’s been whinging about. Yancy’s very excited about the new whip Chuck’s braided for him, and although he didn’t ask for it, Scott’s touched by Yancy’s gift of a full lingerie set in Angela’s size.

Raleigh, though.

“Oh fuck, Scott! I’ve had my eye on these for so long!” Raleigh practically squeals, tail curling out to grab Scott’s wrist and drag him in for a kiss. “They’re perfect!”

“Gonna look perfect on you,” Scott says a bit gruffly.

“Fucking love it!” Raleigh beams at Daddy. “Daddy, can I...”

“Yeah yeah,” Herc pretends to grumble, exchanging an eye-roll with Scott, cigar smoke curling up between his fingers. “I’d love a Christmas strip-tease. Go make yourself cute for us.”

Scott really doesn’t understand it.

But he does like it when he does good by the rest of the clan. So there’s that.


	22. Water

Champagne in hand, Scott strolls barefoot out into the inn’s gardens. The sun is just going down, its fall coloring the mountains around in brilliant reds, the grass in deep shadowed gold. It’s the kind of evening that makes Scott feel like he could just walk off into the sky. Like magic’s real.

Which, of course, it is. But the reminder is nice. 

This place isn’t quite fairyland, not exactly like those stories they read Max sometimes. The fences need to be mended and the little house at the far end of the property needs renovation to bring it up to their standards, and the hot springs pools need loads of work - plaster, stone, upgrades to the pump systems, improvements to the layout. But it’s got a fully functional hotel attached, already cleared with the state as a clothing-optional facility, and for an incubi clan, it’s kind of perfect. 

Like it was waiting for them to come along, buy it up, and make it into the hedonistic pleasure garden it’s always wanted to be.

They’ll have to bring the Gages over for a pre-grand opening orgy as a thank you. 

Steam is rising off the water in the largest pool at the end of the garden, carrying with it the scent of the earth and the laughter of their boys, Chuck and Yancy playing with Max in the water, Raleigh nursing little baby Dominic under one of the old ramadas, strung up with Christmas lights. 

He smiles as Scott walks up, twisting around for a kiss that’s freely given. “Hey.”

“Hey baby,” Scott replies gently, ruffling his hair. Raleigh’s letting it grow out again, now that they’re as far from the prying eyes of the Shatterdome as they can get, the blond locks inching down to his shoulders. Boy looks exhausted, but happy; the expression of any new mom. “How you feeling?”

“It’s nice to be back in America,” he says quietly and looks down. Dominic’s pulling away, yawning a little toothless yawn. Raleigh switches him to a shoulder to bounce the burps out. “Always liked Colorado.”

“Yeah, think it’s gonna be a real nice place for us,” Scott says, and glances over at the pool. Where Herc’s watching him. He leans in, kissing the top of Dominic’s head, then lifting up to whisper, “if he’s done, don’t you think it’d be good to put the boys to bed?”

Raleigh raises an eyebrow. “He just finished.”

“I think it’s a lovely idea, Rals,” Herc says and waves at Max, pointing back at the house. “Oi, sprog, bedtime.”

The little boy scrambles back around, paddling over in his floaties with all the earnestness of a six year old who needs to get some sleep but desperately doesn’t want it. “But Daddy...”

“None of that now. And don’t give your Mum any shit about brushing your teeth.”

“Language!” Raleigh groans from the ramada.

It’s not that much work, in the end, for Raleigh to pack Max and Dominic off to the house and their new beds. He won’t be coming back down to the pools tonight, but that’s alright. Herc took the whole morning with him today, and while shit like that used to piss Scott off, he’s long gotten over it. Raleigh and Yancy are Herc’s, yeah, but they’re his boys too. 

As long as Scott gets his indulgences, he can spare the boys their own. 

And Scott always gets his.

“You didn’t have to bring the whole bottle down,” Herc says, eyes darkening with lust as the light falls and Scott slips into the water next to him, board shorts banished to the nearest rock. 

“Sure I did,” Scott says lightly, pressing the bottle into his mate’s hands. The hot water is ace, especially with that weightless quality it lends to his cock, and he lets his tail slip out. Oh yeah. Very lovely. “Who else is going to drink it?”

“Got a point there,” Herc grunts and takes a deep swig. He’s not fooling anyone, though. Scott can feel how pleased he is. 

Yancy and Chuck have already found a nice patch of grass for themselves, blanket spread out, that laughter continuing. The stars are peeking out through the thin mountain air, brighter than they ever were in Sydney. Scott curls up against Herc’s chest, perched on the underwater bench, listening to his mate’s heart thump, feeling all those little shifts of mood, of thought. 

It’s been a long time since they had any peace. Three months since Pitfall. Three long months. But everything’s okay now. They’re free. To be what they are.

Right now, what Scott is is hungry.

“Hey there,” he says, taking the champagne away from his brother and gliding effortlessly into his lap instead, making sure to push his hardening cock against Herc’s belly in the process. “How ‘bout a toast?”

“Already had a drink, love.”

“I haven’t,” Scott replies, smiling as winsomely as he can.

Herc laughs.

But Herc takes the point.

This is the deep pool, two meters at the far end, and that’s where Herc pushes them out to, Scott’s body entwined with his own, a lazy twist taking them all the way to the back wall. Scott lets Herc trap him against it, arms bracketing his body. In the water, it’s nothing to lift his legs up to wrap around his brother’s waist and just let him in. It’s amazing, the weightlessness amplifying the force of Herc’s thrusts, the feel of his own slickness against the heat of the water, of Herc’s cock, throbbing inside of him...

“Welcome home, sweetheart,” Herc murmurs in his ear.

Scott digs his fingers into his brother’s biceps. “We’re gonna christen every one of these damn pools,” he gasps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The prompt was shower sex, but I think I’ve done that... so, water? Water counts, eh?
> 
> Also, who else watched the opening credits sequence for Spectre and thought Bond/Consentacles? Because jfc, I was embarrassed to be watching that piece of softcore porn with my mom sitting next to me, but I really want some Bond tentacle sex. That would have been a much better torture scene and... I’m writing it now, aren’t I?


	23. DP Desk Sex

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...because regular desk sex is too vanilla. I mean, like, seriously.

Raleigh likes to find excuses to come to Daddy’s office. It’s kind of hard these days, since his job in the ‘Dome consists of running after his son. It’s amazing how much trouble a two-year-old Hansen boy can get into. Sure, Raleigh always takes Max by at lunch - after Max stopped nursing, they figured out pretty quick that having an incubus feed a human toddler was a terrible idea - but that’s Max’s feeding time, not his own. Daddy’s very strict about delineating things like that.

But still.

Raleigh manages it every once in a while.

Sometimes, by guilt-tripping somebody else in the family into taking him along.

Sometimes, he doesn’t have to.

Uncle Scott, especially, never seems to mind lending his dick to the cause.

Everything that was on the desk a few minutes ago has been banished to the floor by a sweep of Daddy’s arm; nothing up here now but Uncle Scott’s ass and Raleigh’s tail and the slippery puddle of their combined slick, leaking uncontrollably across the polished wood.

“Oh gods, Daddy...” Raleigh moans, digging his nails into Uncle Scott’s thighs, bare feet pressed to the back of Uncle Scott’s thighs to avoid kicking Daddy in the face with all the delicious, shaky sensations running through him. Between the throbbing heat of Uncle Scott’s cock in his ass and Daddy’s tongue on his clit, it’s all Raleigh can do to control himself. “Daddy, please...”

And Daddy just laughs, a warm humor that sends a dizzying wave through Raleigh’s already oversensitized body. A kiss is placed to the crease of his thigh, and then Daddy’s stubble is trailing all the way up his chest. Hands are laid on either side of Uncle Scott’s legs, Daddy’s massive cock making an appearance above the edge of the desk, so close to where Raleigh wants it, so fucking close...

“Our boy needs you to fuck him, ‘Le,” Uncle Scott murmurs, and does something with his hips - subtle, gentle, but more than enough to nudge the head of his cock unerringly across Raleigh’s prostate. Raleigh moans, writhing back into Uncle Scott’s chest, but Uncle Scott’s arms are holding him tight. There’s nowhere to go.

As if Raleigh wanted to escape.

“Is that so?” Daddy rumbles, and strokes Raleigh’s cheek as he leans across his shoulder to give Uncle Scott a kiss. He shoves three fingers into Raleigh’s cunt at the same time, scissoring mercilessly. “Not sure he’s wet enough.”

“Yeah, you sit your arse down here. It’s like trying to keep your balance on an oilslick.”

“Is that so?” Daddy asks, giving Raleigh a quick kiss now. Raleigh can taste himself on Daddy’s lips, and if his pussy lips weren’t already painfully full of need, that would do the trick. 

“Is my good little girl having fun?” Daddy murmurs, playing with him. Uncle Scott’s gone still beneath him. Daddy’s fingers, so strong and slick inside of him, the sensation of their blunt pads sliding up Uncle Scott’s cock through thin, tender tissue. It’s _torture_. “Is my little Rose having fun messing up Daddy’s desk?”

“Y-Yes,” Raleigh pants, and grabs for Daddy’s uniform. He can feel the edge of Daddy’s orgasm, like a wave just starting to gain momentum far out at sea, and Raleigh needs it. _Needs_ all that hot wonderful cum filling him up. “Please.”

Daddy’s hand wraps around his waist, leveraging him up, while Uncle Scott’s hand hold tight on his belly, and Raleigh can’t do anything but give everything up, as Daddy finally slides home.


	24. Trying New Position

Public reputation and private biological concerns notwithstanding, Scott likes to think of himself as a pretty vanilla bloke. Sure, he likes some of the wilder things the boys enjoy, both with their daddy and out in the world at large. But mostly, he just supervises that sort of thing. Chaperones. He’s in his late thirties, he’s mated to the best man on the planet, and he’s content. 

Mostly.

He does get curious sometimes.

“How was that for you?” he asks, still a little out of breath. Herc’s body is a comforting weight above him, around him, Chuck’s tongue shivery-good as it cleans his belly with long strokes, and the last thing he wants to do is move.

Herc smirks at him before dragging a finger through the mess on Scott’s chest and holding it up for Raleigh to eat off. “Shot clear up to your neck. Reckon that means it was pretty good.” And his brother’s smile softens. “How was it for you, angel? First time topping me?”

Scott pushes himself up, still buried in his brother’s body, bracing on an arm as he kisses Herc as deeply as he can. “With you in charge, love, how could it be anything but perfect?”


	25. Glory Hole

Yancy finds out about the family’s latest arts ’n’ crafts project the same way he finds out a lot of things about Chuck; in the Drift.

Specifically, he sees Chuck sniggering as Uncle Scott cuts a hole in a bathroom stall divider with a plasma torch.

Plenty of fun tools to be found in the jaeger bays, Yancy figures.

But finding that glory hole takes a bit of work.

Chuck won’t tell him where it is. “It’s my lunch buffet spot,” he whines when Yancy asks him about it, and Scott, damn him, just smiles a “Charlie’s feeling a bit displaced with the baby and all, let him have his fun, eh?”

Yancy’s not a quitter, though. And he _loves_ glory holes. Lunch buffets? Like a buffet that serves lobster or caviar or, like, McDonald’s or something. Food that’s really tasty, whatever that might be. Glory hole orgasms are so full of guilt and the fear/excitement that comes from the threat of getting caught, tinged with delight and flavored with the sheer naughtiness of it all. 

And best part is, a clever incubus doesn’t have to lift a finger to get anybody to use it. Bait it with rumor and a bit of suggestion, and the humans come running. A properly cultivated glory hole is like a cum river. A bear trap that always has a bear in it, but in a good way. Or whatever it is humans trap for the purposes of consumption. Fish? Chickens? (Do humans trap chickens? Feathered little beasts must come from somewhere)

Anyway. Glory holes. Oh yeah, they’re _awesome_.

The humans must know where it is - they always know - but he’s not stupid enough to try and ask. Instead, Yancy does what he always does; sits back and listens. And just like he finds the glory hole in Chuck’s brain, the human minds around him eventually led him to it.

Turns out, it’s in a pretty obvious place. Daring, even. The main gym locker rooms - not the nice private pilot work out room that’s attached to the Kwoon, but the big one everyone can use. Which is a good place for it. Lots of traffic. Lot of sweaty, exercised, eager traffic. That little edge of testosterone definitely tastes good.

Just thinking about all those lovely cocks, just begging to be sucked, makes Yancy all warm and happy inside.

“Oh Chuck,” Yancy murmurs, and lets himself into the stall, “you have outdone yourself once again.”

+++++

Chuck finds out that Yancy’s found out through the drift. 

It’s a training run, fortunately. Or else he might have gotten distracted by Yancy’s memories of sore knees and a a full throat; lose himself in the feedback from feeding off a guilt-wracked human, embarrassed but too far gone in the pleasure to care. Thick, throbbing cocks that just kept coming, one after another, until people were lining up and Yancy got bored and just turned the whole thing into an orgy for them all. Including the bloke who legit just came in to take a piss.

“Wanker, stealing my party,” he grumbles.

“Buck up, kiddo,” Yancy says, in that voice that means he’s winking beneath his stupid helmet. “There’s plenty of cum to go around.”

“It’s still Daddy’s ‘Dome, so it’s really all his anyway.”

 _Guys,_ Tendo’s voice says on the radio, _please turn your radios off Vox if you’re going to talk about your extracurriculars._

“Gotcha, my man,” Yancy replies happily, and flicks a switch on Striker’s dash, grinning over at Chuck. “Next time, we’re gonna discuss the proper height. It could do with an extra two inches.”

“Anything my big brother wants to teach me, I wanna learn,” Chuck purrs.

And hey, irritating as it is that he has to share yet _another_ thing of his with everyone else, at least Yancy only found the one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should be studying for my PMP exam, but here I am, unemployed, watching Kitchen Nightmares, and writing fanfic in my bathrobe that doesn’t have anything to do with the upcoming Christmas stuff. I suppose I should be worried about all this but somehow, I’m not. Apparently, I’ve got issues. And I just wanna fiiiiiinish this.


	26. Food Play

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh hell, what is this even?

There’s no reason to be nervous.

No reason at all.

And Mike Anderson knows that. He’s been telling himself that for the past two days, while he’s walked his paperwork around the ‘Dome, collecting signatures like he’s some fourteen year old girl at a goddamn One Direction concert, getting approval to even be here in the first place. Applying to move from Vulcan Spectre’s crew to Striker Eureka’s shouldn’t be a huge deal...

Except it is. 

It’s not like he’s not qualified; he’s won Junior Tech of the Quarter three quarters out of the past five. He’s thrown himself into all the extra shifts his Chief would let him work, fought to rotate through every mechanical sub-system on the Mark-IV, studied his arse off to learn the intricacies of the Mark-V synthetic neuro-hydraulic interfaces...

He can do this.

He can nail this interview.

He can.

It’s just so hard to stand here in front of Marshall Hansen’s desk, at attention, trying not to look him in the eye but trying to keep his attention forward and focused, not think about how fucking hot the man is, and... wait, no, he’s not...

But Marshall Hansen is really hot.

Not that Mike’s every thought of himself as gay. It’s not gay, is it? It’s just... a fact, or something like that. Nothing gay about recognizing how damn sexy their commander is. No, no problem there at all, except...

_Just be honest, sweetie. Just let us see whatever's lurking down there._

“So, Anderson, why are you asking for this transfer?” 

He looks over to Marshall Hansen’s right, where Ranger Becket is ensconced in an armchair he clearly pulled over, special for the occasion. But Mike’s dealt with pilots before - who hasn’t, in this ‘Dome - and he knows this is just about proving he can hang in there with whatever weird-ass shit might happen. Pilots are weird by nature. Especially Ranger Becket, who’s rumored to be engaged to Scott Hansen, despite the fact it’s Chuck Hansen he pilots with, and how must that work out in the Drift?

Ranger Becket’s smirking.

He has a very nice mouth.

He swallows. “I, umm, I believe the Mark-V represents the ultimate challenge in engineering, and I believe I have the ability to be a fantastic asset to her crew.” There. That wasn’t so hard. Didn’t sound rehearsed at all.

“Our baby gives me a chubby every time I set eyes on her too, mate. Wouldn’t think much of you if you weren’t affected the same,” Ranger Hansen says from where he’s lounging on the edge of his father’s desk. None of them put on service blues, like he was required to, but it looks like Chuck didn’t even change after hitting the gym this morning. He’s disheveled, still wearing his sweaty work-out gear, those loose gi pants stretched tight across his groin. “But what’s the real reason you wanna work on her?”

Mike swallows, suddenly feeling very exposed in front of these three, very inadequate. Small. Like he wants to just roll over and show his belly. But that voice is back, so sweet and quiet - _be honest with us, Daddy wants to hear you be honest_ \- and so out comes something he'd promised himself he wouldn't say. 

“I’ve, uhh, the Striker Eureka crew is real tight-knit from what I understand, and that’s... I’d like... I’d like to be part of that. I was at camp when Scissure hit, and I really, umm... yeah. Haven’t had a family in a while.”

“Well, that’s honest, at least,” Marshall Hansen says drily, and looks over at Ranger Becket. “What are you thinkin’, son?” 

“We’ve got a number of openings he’s qualified for,” Ranger Becket says, and gets up, thumbs hooking through the velcro waist straps of his flight suit. “And, of course, there’s always room in this family for good little boys.” Mike feels himself flush, and Ranger Becket’s right there, smiling at him. Fuck, Mike can smell him; good cologne, the faint musk of sex, all male. And Mike never thought he would have been into that, but right now, it’s perfect. Amazing. “You’re a good boy, aren’t you?”

“I could be,” he breathes, more than a little lost in all this. Ranger Becket’s eyes are so bright, so perfect... and then Ranger Becket brushes his cheek with the back of his knuckles, and Mike’s never wanted to go to his knees for another man before, but then, he’s never so much as had a girlfriend, so what did he know about himself? This is exactly, _exactly_ what he needs. “If you want me,” he adds, hopeful. “I’d be so good for you, sir.”

“Yancy,” Marshall Hansen says, and it sounds like a warning, but why?

Ranger Becket chuckles, and lays his other hand, wide and warm, on Mike’s chest. “Oh, see, Daddy, this is why we do interviews. I’m barely putting any kind of whammy on him at all. Like, two beers under.” 

He leans into Ranger Becket’s touch. God, they call the Marshall Daddy. What would it like, having a daddy?

“I feel a little drunk,” Mike says, laughing a bit, smiling back. He’s got no idea what Ranger Becket is talking about, but this is way better than answering technical questions, at attention, for an hour. 

“Good drunk or bad drunk?” Marshall Hansen asks pointedly.

“Good drunk,” Mike says, and then closes his eyes, another pair of hands sliding up his back. “I feel very good, sir.”

“We don’t want anybody on our crew that doesn’t like feeling good,” Ranger Hansen murmurs in his ear from behind. “More fun for everybody that way.”

Mike wants to press back into him, wants to feel that strong pilot body, making him submit, _so go ahead, sweetie, take what you want_. 

“And we really like to play,” Ranger Becket purrs, pushing him back gently. Ranger Hansen’s arms curl around his waist; Mike gasps. He can feel Ranger Hansen’s erection against the curve of his own arse.

“Oi, guess Striker isn’t the only thing that makes you hard, is she, sir?”

Ranger Hansen laughs and kisses his neck, teeth scraping along behind, drawing shivering moans from Mike. “Oh, I like this one, Daddy. Can we keep him?”

Mike opens his eyes, tracking from Ranger Becket’s soft smile to Marshall Hansen’s inscrutable eyebrow tilt. And he doesn’t know why the Marshall’s hesitating, since the Rangers like him so much, but he thinks he might have an answer, something he could offer, an idea that’s bubbling up, if he can just find the courage to... _of course you’re brave enough to ask, you sweet thing, just say it if you’d like it_. “Can we... can I...”

“Just say it, boy.”

 _Boy_. Sends shivers right through him. _Say it, sweetie_ , and he feels very... strong. Good. “If I gave you a blow-job, would that prove I was serious?” he offers. “Please?”

Ranger Hansen kisses his neck again. “Oh, you hungry little bi-curious baby boy.”

“See, Daddy?” Ranger Becket says smugly, running his fingers up into Mike’s hair. “The full-on straight ones take like a week to figure that one out. Told you he was gay.”

“Everyone’s gay for you boys,” Marshall Hansen shoots back.

“I’m not the one whose cock he wants in his cute little mouth,” Ranger Becket replies, and Mike moans again, the image of being on his knees between Marshall Hansen’s legs, staring up at him, that gorgeous chiseled jawline and that huge cock in front of him... why hasn’t he ever thought about that before? How is he ever going to be able to think about anything else again?

“Fine,” Marshall Hansen says, and makes a little come-hither gesture with his hand. “Let’s get to the practice skills part of this thing, eh?”

“Should I crawl over?” Mike asks Ranger Becket.

“Oh yeah, Daddy. We’re keeping him.”


	27. Hurt/Comfort

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mostly comfort, haha
> 
> And maybe I’ll put these in some kind of order when I’m done with all thirty... if we ever get there, haha. This one is technically right after the last full story.

There’s nothing Herc can do to completely override the concerns of his medical personnel; Raleigh has to spend the next day or two in the clinic for observation. Max has to spend the next month in that toaster-oven contraption. It’s the most heart-rending thing Herc’s ever been through, this elation he feels over being a father again robbed by the agony of having to look at his baby from outside his protective plastic bubble.

But he’s had plenty of practice with tragedy. Nothing he can do now, except pick the pieces up and try to move forward. Take care of what he can actually control.

And right now, what he needs to take care of is in his arms.

Nobody looks them in the face on the way back to their quarters, the few people Herc and Scott pass in the hall, and he’s grateful for that. Scott’s wrapped around him like an octopus, face turned in to Herc’s shoulder and weight heavy in Herc’s arms. Herc’s not even sure if his little brother is capable of walking on his own. Like now that all of this emotion has hit, all those tears have been shed, Scott’s got nothing left to give.

Still, he manages to get them back and safely inside, the door code on a hard lock, something not even LOCCENT can override. He doesn’t want anybody prying, the outgoing base commander coming by to see how he’s doing, or any of that shit. 

The boys can come back, of course, with the right code, but he’s already talked to Yancy about that. Herc doesn’t want either of them in until he’s had the chance to put Scott back together. Not that he could pry either of them away from Raleigh right now. Yancy won’t leave his little brother’s side, and Chuck... well, Chuck’s Yancy’s co-pilot now. And that’s his baby brother down there.

“I’m sorry,” Scott mumbles into Herc’s shoulder, as soon as the door’s closed. “I’m sorry, ‘Le, I’m so sorry.”

“Shush,” Herc chides, as gentle as he can, maneuvering them both back to the bedroom. “Max is fine, Raleigh is fine...”

“I almost got them killed.”

“But you didn’t. You did everything right,” he replies, because yeah, he got the full story out of Raleigh after the nurses left. The whole thing. Including the bit about Scott willingly giving up himself, just to make his big brother happy. He guides Scott down to the sheets, sitting down next to him and pulling the loaned hospital gown off his shoulders. Richard had ruined his little brother’s clothes. “Richard did this, not you.” 

Scott stares at him, expression dull. “I put him in our path.”

“You didn’t know.”

“But ‘Le...”

“Would you stop it, angel?” Herc says again and lays his now-naked little brother back, nudging bare knees apart and pulling his own henley off as he moves in between them. “Beating yourself up over this isn’t gonna help Raleigh or Max, yeah?”

Scott looks away. “Angie was your angel.”

“You are my angel,” Herc says, more firmly this time, and rubs his knuckles down Scott’s cheek, under the crease of his jaw, thumb stroking against the stubble there. Scott leans into it, eyes sliding shut. “You’re the first man or woman I fell in love with, my sweet baby brother...”

“The first man _and_ woman,” Scott jokes, shuddering a little as Herc moves closer, kissing the skin behind the movement of his hands. “Ah, gods, ‘Le, you feel so good.”

“Hungry?”

“I could eat,” Scott says with a nervous little laugh, and kisses Herc’s cheek, hands sliding around Herc’s ribs. “Haven’t... haven’t had a meal yet, since, uhh.”

“Since you broke our bond,” Herc murmurs in his ear. Scott shivers. “Since you went human.”

“It was a mistake,” Scott replies hesitantly, and then, stronger, “so I came back.”

“Because you love me?” Herc presses. Here, like this, in the heart of his little kingdom and his brother’s warm, hard body surrounding his, he’s having a bit of trouble controlling himself. He might not consume sex energy for nourishment, but he’s only human, and it’s been an emotional day. Scott needs to eat, sure, but Herc needs the release. 

Needs to re-establish his ownership, too, if he’s being honest with himself. Scott belongs to _him_. His wife. His little brother. 

“I love you,” Scott says, and flushes a little. “Love all of you.”

“Good. So no more of this nonsense about leaving us.” And to punctuate his point, Herc slips two fingers up behind his little brother’s balls, letting the tips brush against his entrance. Scott’s already getting wet, and it makes Herc’s heart hurt to think that they might have lost this. Lost _them_. He doesn’t want Scott to think he doesn’t want him, that the only reason why he loved him was because of magic or mind control. Hell, they’ve got Chuck, don’t they, to prove what they have? 

Or maybe Scott needs more than that.

“Ah fuck, ‘Le. Please, c’mon...” Scott’s nails dig into his back. “Please, need to feel you. Need to feel my big brother.”

“Feel how much your big brother loves you?”

“Gods, ‘Le...”

“Cause he loves you so much,” Herc croons, and pushes his fingers inside, capturing Scott’s mouth at the same time. 

There’s nothing left of their ghost drift now, and their bond vanished the moment Scott became human, so there’s no feedback. Herc never realized how important that was, how long he lived with Scott’s murmuring emotions filling the well of his thoughts, and he had no idea just how important that was to him. How integral _Scott_ was to his life. 

Still, he doesn’t need the bond to feel the way his brother melts against him, sense his eagerness in the way he returns the kiss or tussles with Herc’s khakis, whining for the lack of bare skin. Herc chuckles a little - relief, more than anything - and reckons this might not be such a bad thing. If they bonded way back, when Scott was still a teen, they never really had the chance for any romance, did they? Never had a chance to fall in love. Herc never really got to court him, not even as Angela; that was only them formalizing something they’d already been living with for years. 

This time, this time, he’s not going to screw it up.

No way in hell.

Scott’s kiss gets a little too hard, nipping at Herc’s lip in a way that’s more pain than pleasure, and it’s enough to knock Herc out of his reverie. Pull back, and really _consider_.

Scott’s chest is rising and falling a little too sharply, eyes soft, worried.

His horns are out, though. And there’s not a trace of the sick charcoal scabbing from before; they’re a beautiful steel blue-gray, the same color as Striker’s hull. Healthy. Healed.

“Look at you,” Herc says approvingly, and bends down to kiss Scott’s forehead, licking around the base of one of his horns. “So pretty for me.”

This time, Scott’s blush is unmistakable for what it is. Just like the coy little smile that creeps across his lips. “You like me,” he teases.

“You’ll do,” Herc teases back, and kisses him again, gentle, twisting his fingers up around inside of him, not quite hitting his prostate. Not yet. Not like this. “As long as you like me back.”

“Only man in the world for me.”

He spreads; he was expecting Scott to be tight, virgin or something like that, after that whole human mess, but he feels the same. Tight but not painfully so, welcoming his fingers in with just the right amount of pressure, of squeeze. “What about the boys?”

“Well, they’re our boys, aren’t they?” Scott replies, managing to sound both smug and breathless, and then twists a little. “Ah, ‘Le, please...”

“What do you want, angel?”

“You, want my big brother, I told you...”

“I know, angel. And I want you, so much,” and Herc kisses him softly to swallow down the inevitable whine, pulling his now-slicked fingers free again and wrapping them firmly around Scott’s burgeoning erection. He sits back, tugging Scott with him. “C’mere.”

“What?” Scott asks, sounding a bit dazed, but pushes himself up anyway. His wings come out as his back leaves the pillows, his feathers the same steel-gray as his horns and practically glowing. The tips are quivering with need. “‘Le, what are you doing? C’mon, fuck me.”

Herc circles his hand. “How ‘bout you fuck me, angel?”

He’s never offered it before, and Scott’s never asked. Never took it either, back when his little brother was forced to sneak into Herc’s bed after he was asleep. Pegging wasn’t anything Herc ever tried with Angela, although there’s something fun about that idea now. After they try it with Scott’s male body first. Of course.

For the moment, Scott looks at him with big, wide eyes that make him look like he’s sixteen again. Nods. Shifts around and puts his hands on Herc’s shoulder.

“Lay back for me, ‘Le,” he says, low and seductive. 

Herc doesn’t do this with the boys very often; incubi might not have preferences when it comes to how they like their dinner, but his have very definite opinions about how they like their daddy. It’s deference to their power dynamic, and fuck, if Herc doesn’t get off on knowing he’s in control.

But this, this is different. _They’re_ different.

Scott’s topped before, of course, and he obviously knows the mechanics of this. But Herc still has to soothe his nerves, kissing and petting as Scott tentatively eases a hand in between Herc’s legs.

“Don’t think about it so much,” Herc reassures him, stroking his face.

Scott’s finger stills right at his entrance. “But ‘Le...”

“Shh, c’mon,” and he pushes his hips forward and up, nudging that finger further in, through the ring of muscle. “Just like that.”

Scott drops his forehead to Herc’s shoulder. “I’ve only done this with...”

“Humans. Food. I know, angel,” Herc murmurs, sliding his hands into Scott’s hair. “But this is you and me.”

“Don’t wanna hurt you any more today.”

Herc snorts. “Scott, the only way you’re gonna hurt me is if you don’t finger me open, right the fuck now.”

Scott laughs a little, wings fluttering as his body shifts, and then it’s Herc’s turn to groan.

There are a few more hiccups, Scott hesitating or Herc wincing, both of them having to adjust, but they make it work. It takes a lot of Scott’s natural slick - and not a little convincing, that yes, Scott honey, it is okay to use that - and some time, but they make it work.

And judging from the wonderment in Scott’s eyes as he finally sinks deep into Herc’s body, this was definitely the right call this morning.

Plus, it feels fucking amazing.

+++++

Yancy is dying for a shower and a fuck, by the time he finally convinces Chuck to head back to the room. It’s been a long night, and Raleigh’s asleep, and they can’t hold Max anyway, and there’s nothing more they can do.

Besides, the two hours he promised Daddy he could have, alone with Uncle Scott, is almost up. Close enough, right? 

This whole last twenty-four hours has been a complete clusterfuck. Yancy’s just looking forward to getting things back to normal, but truthfully, he’s worried about what he’s going to find. Raleigh was so broken up about what happened, Uncle Scott’s been a wreck for so long...

The last thing Yancy expects to hear, though, is laughter. Coming from the bedroom.

Chuck raises an eyebrow and Yancy shrugs back, stepping out of his shoes on the way to the nest, peering around the corner of the doorway.

Uncle Scott has molded himself into Daddy’s side, cheek to arm, lapping carelessly at the white lines of dried cum streaked across Daddy’s abs. He’s giggling a little, but Daddy’s the one who’s just straight out laughing, the sound absolutely beautiful. The mating bond Yancy shares with Daddy is filled with affection, with a love that doesn’t feel directional or specific at all.

Yancy just stands there and waits, smiling himself, until Daddy’s eyes finally flick up to his. Daddy just shakes his head. “Wouldn’t make any sense if I explained it,” he says.

Uncle Scott looks up as well, winks at Yancy, and then reaches up to bite at Daddy’s nipple. 

Daddy slaps at him, and Uncle Scott growls teasingly, and the next thing Yancy can see, Daddy’s got his ass over wings, wrestling him down into the nest. Uncle Scott’s only laughing harder, and Yancy can feel Daddy’s arousal rising.

“So, uhh, should I go get some take out?” Yancy asks casually, biting at a nail. “I mean, if you two are...”

“Don’t be a bitch, Yance,” Uncle Scott says from under Daddy’s thighs. “You and your brother get in here. Your Daddy’s dying to fuck something.”

“So, uhh, you two, umm, didn’t...”

Daddy looks at him and crooks a finger. 

So whatever. Doesn’t matter what they were up to. As long as Yancy gets Daddy’s cock inside of him in the next two minutes - and Raleigh’s okay, and their family’s safe, and Uncle Scott isn’t threatening to leave them anymore - he’s good.


	28. Role-Playing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a paycheck for the next month and I'm driiiiiiiinking. DON'T JUDGE ME. This is traaaaaaaash. (Also, in my defense...I saw a lot of weird-ass shit when I was living in Tokyo, and Stacker was stationed there for a while. Couldn't have helped.)
> 
> If anybody has suggestions for the second to last installment, I'm open. :D The last installment is already WELL planned out.

“You look knackered,” Herc observes with all his usual - lack of - tact, and hands over a fresh long neck. “Dunno why that’d be.”

Stacker huffs out a small laugh, taking the beer gratefully. “The work never stops, my friend.”

Herc plops back down in his chair, behind that huge commander’s desk that Stacker was insane enough to offer him, a thoughtful look on his face. “Right, work,” he says, like he knows something.

And Stacker’s just grateful embarrassment doesn’t show on his face. 

He has no idea how Herc found out, but Herc knows. _Knows_ , knows. Somehow. About his little... problem. Stacker doesn’t really know what to call it. Just that ever since Tamsin got really drunk and really horny one night, called him _baby girl_ and kissed him like nobody’d ever kissed him, nothing else has done it for him. She apologized for it later, but drift bleed-through was bleed-through; they were both into women. They both needed that connection with each other. All pilots do. It’s not his fault she was as good as she was with a strap-on, is it now? And then there was that stripper in Alaska, the one who always seems to find him - to the point where Stacker’s pretty sure he’s hallucinating her now - the one who’s straight out of a goddamn porno with those giant tits and her perfect...

Stacker absolutely doesn’t feel the need to apologize for what he’s into, but. Still. This is _Herc_. He shouldn’t be embarrassed in front of Herc, one of his oldest friends, but Herc’s been both utterly open and completely unapologetic about his upcoming nuptials with Raleigh Becket, and here Stacker is himself. Unable to cope with the fact that he likes girls. It’s not like it makes him a lesbian...

Right?

Right.

That doesn't even make any sense.

“It’s just work,” he insists.

“Right,” Herc says, and sips at his own beer. Eyes on Stacker. Really. They’ve never talked about it, but Stacker knows that Herc knows, and the least the Aussie bastard could do is acknowledge it.

“Right,” Stacker repeats.

“I got you something,” Herc says, and pulls a drawer open in his desk. “Knew you’d probably be a damn basket case, so I thought you might need a little something-something to help you relax.” A wrapped box is produced.

A wrapped box. 

That’s wrapped with pink polka dot paper.

Stacker swallows. “Hansen, I’ve no idea what you’re up to...”

“Just open the damn thing, will ya?”

Fingers trembling a little, Stacker sets his beer aside to tug at the tape. It’s surprisingly sturdy and well done - he doesn’t remember Herc ever putting this much thought into something - but what’s inside...

Holy shit.

He’s never talked to _anybody_ about this particular... fantasy.

And yet there it is. 

A school girl uniform.

A perfect little tartan uniform that looks like it actually might _fit_ him.

Fuck, he knows he needs to stop watching hentai, but...

“See? I told you nothing happened in class.”

Stacker starts a little. There’s a girl on the arm of his chair. A _girl_. A curvy, thick-thighed, ginger girl, who looks familiar somehow, even though he knows he’s never laid eyes on her before. She’s got a wild head of bright red hair - almost the color of Chuck’s, actually - that’s falling over heavy breasts, nothing on but a school tie and a little miniskirt that’s bulging right at her...

Oh god.

“Your teacher was quite clear with me,” Herc says, in a stern voice that goes straight through Stacker, “that you two girls were being very naughty indeed during class today. Isn’t that right?”

And fuck, now there’s a girl sitting on Herc’s chair. Take away those glasses, severe gray suit and that bun she’s got her strawberry blonde hair twisted up in, and she almost looks like Angela, which is... 

“That’s right, Headmaster,” the woman who can’t possibly be Angela purrs. “Ellie was a very naughty girl in class today indeed.”

Stacker can’t hardly breathe. He can’t tell if that’s from shock or arousal or... “who’s Ellie?” he asks the ginger who’s sitting on his chair arm.

She rolls her eyes.

But it’s far too familiar voice that answers.

“Why that’s you, silly,” Jazmine says, sauntering in from... somewhere, and Stacker’s got no idea why he can’t focus right now, but it feels really good. She perches on the edge of Herc’s desk, in the same fucking school uniform as the younger girl, crossing her legs primly, one stilettoed foot lifting up to rest against Stacker’s painfully erect cock, trapped inside his PPDC blues. “Or did I just imagine you telling me to call you that 

“I think I said Eleanor,” Stacker says faintly, wracking his brain. Did he tell her that? Did he ask her to call him that? Sure, maybe he thinks about it every so often, what Tamsin used to call him sometimes, but...

“Silly,” Jazmine smiles. “Such a nice little girl like you ought to have a nice little name.”

“Oh, she’s not nice at all,” the ginger girl volunteers. “Fucking filthy, that’s what she is.”

“Language, Charlie,” the woman who absolutely isn’t Angela corrects.

Herc chuckles, and pats her ass fondly, and wait, isn’t he gay now? “Now Ellie, you wouldn’t want to make your punishment worse by continuing to sit here in my office out of uniform, would you?”

“Punishment?” Stacker asks weakly.

But he can’t fake it.

He’s harder that he’s been in _months_.

Seriously. How does Herc _know_?


	29. Anal Beads

“Good gods, Yancy. The fuck is that?”

Yancy grins as he holds up the string of what _must_ be Christmas tree balls, all connected up on some sort of silicone-link chain. “Anal beads.”

“Anal beads, my arse. Those are fucking cricket balls on a string.”

“You are so Australian.”

“Go fuck yourself, love.”

“But you’re the one who said we should try new things together, you know, being married and all.” And he bats his eyes.

Scott resists the urge to roll his. Yeah, sure, married, whatever. For all of thirty-six hours. All they did was get ‘Le - as ‘Dome commander - to sign off on the paperwork. They barely had a ceremony, just the family gathered together in the office, Raleigh beaming and a grumpy Chuck distracting himself with Max’s toys. Hell, they wouldn’t have acknowledged it at all if the crew hadn’t insisted on throwing a party. 

Where did the boy even _find_ those? They look big enough to kill a human. And green. Who wants green anal beads?

“I said new things, not bloody medieval torture devices.”

Of course, that only gets Yancy smiling broader. “I bet the Spanish Inquisition was all kinds of kinky. Poor repressed priests...”

“I’m going to go all Spanish Inquisition on your arse, Becket, if you so much as think about...”

“It’s Hansen now,” Yancy pouts. And yeah, there is that, isn’t there? Scott’s under no delusion that Yancy wanted his daddy’s last name _badly_ , but hey, he could have asked Chuck to tie the knot with him. He asked Scott, though, and while Scott has no idea why, it’s nice. 

Despite all they’ve been through together, he still doesn’t feel like he’s got the same kind of connection with Yancy that he does with the rest of the family. He and Raleigh have bonded over raising baby Max, Chuck is, of course, his adored son, and he and Herc reestablished their own mating bond a few weeks ago. Scott almost wishes he and Yancy could wear rings - it would be nice, that bit of ownership, marking his hubby like that - but Yancy’s dead set against anything that even maybe smells of Judeo-Christian tradition. 

“Yeah, I know love, but...”

Yancy wriggles the string of... beads. “I have the next size up,” he says ominously.

So Scott does the only thing a sane incubus can do.

Go arse-up in the family nest and hope to hell his body slicks enough to take it.

But then, he evidently did forget; Yancy can be a bit of a tease.

The boy doesn’t just shove it in.

Oh no. Nothing like that.

He actually lubes it up - the same stuff Scott uses with ‘Le on the nights when they switch off - and eases it in, playing Scott’s body open just enough so the initial pushes are shudder-inducingly pleasant. The cool silicone twists, the muscles of Scott’s hole fluttering as they’re driven open and allowed to close, the sensation of fullness washing over him as Yancy settles the first one in.

“Feels good, don’t it?” the little shit purrs in Scott’s ear.

He may or may not arch his back a bit. Just like he may or may not unfurl his tail and pet his hubby’s knee. “Yeah, not sure about that. You better push the next one in.”

“You’re such a slut,” Yancy laughs.

“We need to teach you how to sweet talk, love,” Scott replies, grinning back over his shoulder.

“I sweet talk great,” Yancy pouts, injured. 

“The fuck are you two doing in here?” Herc asks, walking up, damp towel around his shoulders, hair still wet from the shower. “I swear, I leave you boys alone for two goddamn minutes...holy shit, Yance. Where’d you even find those?”

Yancy just winks at his daddy and slaps the next bead in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> None of these are very detailed. They probably should have been detailed, huh?


	30. Herc's Clothes

One thing Herc loves about his personal harem of incubi; he always comes home to something delicious. There’s nothing they do that _isn’t_ sexy.

This afternoon, his personal porn fix happens to be Raleigh. Sprawled out on the couch, fast asleep. Wearing a pair of his daddy’s boxers.

Wearing only his daddy’s boxers. 

Hadn't taken his adopted boys long to figure out that, even without all the preternatural grace and gods-given sexual fire, a lover wearing his clothes is just... so irresistibly sexy for Herc. And it doesn't take much to get him going these day anyway.

He can _feel_ the blood rushing south.

Still, Herc doesn't just roll Raleigh over, yank those boxers off, and plunder that sweet little pussy right off the bat. Oh no.

He wants to really enjoy the effect.

The boy’s lost a lot of weight since he gave birth, got out of the conn-pod, all that bulky piloting muscle melted away. Not that he’s lost tone, no; he’s still got plenty of strength. He’s just slimmed down, smoothing down with yoga and running and whatever subtle magic it is that lets his people be whatever they see themselves as. According to Yancy, Raleigh likes his body best when he feels good in a dress. But right now, Herc’s boxers are loose on his narrow hips, all male, or would be, if not for that damp spot spreading between his thighs as he rubs them together, lost in some dream.

His wings are out too. His little horns. His tail. 

Probably dreaming about sex. As usual.

With a soft smile, Herc shucks off his boots, checking the nursery for Max, just in case - Scott’s nowhere to be seen either, which means they’re together, off causing trouble somewhere. Just as well. Raleigh’s probably hungry.

Padding back over to the sofa, Herc sits carefully down on the edge, leaning over his boy, closing his eyes to see if he can catch a glimpse of whatever he’s dreaming about. He can catch the contentment, the anticipation, faint hints of scent. Sweat, warm skin, lip gloss, whatever that’s about. Herc chuckles. Doesn’t matter.

He knows what all his boys like.

For Raleigh, this starts slow. Soft. A light feathery press of fingers to the slick forming at the join of his thighs, a faint promise of more to come. His boy huffs out a small moan, twisting over on his back and Herc readjusts for a better angle. 

Two fingers, slow and firm, light pressure but wide circles, working his way deeper, until he can rub that crotch seam straight down onto his boy’s clit.

“Da-Daddy?” Raleigh gasps, barely audible, and Herc looks up to see blown blue eyes watching him. “Daddy...”

Herc bends to kiss him, easing off the pressure again, going back to just teasing, promising, as he starts working that little nub into a hard peak. “How’s my boy doing today? Have a good day with the sprog?”

“I’m tired,” Raleigh says plaintively and then arches into Herc’s hand. His legs fall apart immediately for better access, one foot dropping to the ground, toes curling into the carpet. “And I’m hungry, Daddy.”

“Hmm,” Herc says and kisses him again; a distraction, from where he’s pulling his boxers down those slim hips. “And what do you expect me to do about that?”

“Fuck me?” Raleigh replies hopefully.

Herc pulls back, just enough to dip down and swipe his tongue across the top of his boy’s clit. “I don’t know, baby boy. Maybe Daddy’s hungry too.” He sucks lightly, tongue diving in deep, pushing wide and pulling out again, fingers slipping in. Gentle, gentle, gentle. Yancy’s the one who likes the hard fucking; Raleigh needs his daddy’s indulgence sometimes. (All the time). And it’s probably the mating bond, but Herc can’t help but give it to him. “Maybe Daddy’s needs come first right now, eh? Maybe Daddy can’t stand it, coming back and seeing his little boy staining his favorite boxers with all his dirty slut juice.” He holds up his hand for emphasis. It’s dripping. “Could have been anybody that was playing with you.”

“No, Daddy, no. I only love you.”

“But you don’t need love to get yourself all wet, now do you?” Herc continues, rubbing that little nub between his fingers. “You spread it for anybody...”

“No Daddy, no, please,” Raleigh gasps, twisting around in his hands. 

Herc holds his hips down, going back in with his tongue. Maybe it’s because Raleigh’s an incubus, or maybe it’s because Herc loves him so, or something, but he tastes fucking delicious. Goddamn good, and Herc can feel the boy’s muscles fluttering at the effort of holding himself in check. Not like Herc’s not hard enough to hammer nails himself. “Are you telling me to stop?”

“No, no, please don’t stop, don’t stop, Daddy...”

“Such a slut,” Herc purrs and rubs his cheek against Raleigh’s thigh before going back in. “Daddy’s baby boy, sleeping here, dreaming about somebody else, forgetting who owns him...”

“So fuck me, Daddy. Remind me. Please? I’ll make it so good for you.”

He spreads his boy’s lips wide with the fingers of his right hand, the left curling up and in towards that G-spot, tongue twisting around for a minute before pulling back to answer, “fuck what?”

Raleigh’s answer - when it comes, accompanied by the sweetest blush - a is oh-so quiet, and oh-so adorable. Shy, even. “Fuck your little boy’s pussy, Daddy?”

And yeah, so maybe Herc can’t say no to his boys.

But why would he want to?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So.... I'm working on a "sequel" for the foodplay chapter and I was going to use that for the last chapter, but it's going to be long. And I'm not sure if anybody is interested in something OC-heavy. (But hey, Yancy getting a new crewman trained right proper seemed like fun, so...) If I post that, it'll be a separate story.
> 
> Will-o-wisp and I were talking about people wearing Herc's clothes so I couldn't not. Heh.

**Author's Note:**

> If y’all would like something else that’s not this and not super plotty, let me know.


End file.
